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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265741">The Void in Space</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrumize/pseuds/scrumize'>scrumize</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rick and Morty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Gen, Incest, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Teleiophilia, children abusing adults, discussions of pedophilia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:20:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,016</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrumize/pseuds/scrumize</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Morty B-375 is seen by many as a lost cause. His mind is too fractured to be the Morty the Citadel wants him to be. It only takes one kind act from a mind just as broken as he is to even want to go looking for his past self.</p><p>Kindness is a response to pain. A Rick must be in a lot of pain to be kind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rick Sanchez &amp; Morty Smith, Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Failure Dressed in Yellow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Content warnings for this chapter:</p><p>-Bullying<br/>-Mentioned cannibalism<br/>-Suicidal thoughts</p><p>Please do not read if this content makes you feel unsafe.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Citadel is bustling with activity from its Morty and Rick inhabitants. Everything is <span>loud, </span>alive, and chaotic. How else would it be with that much ego in one city? The school bells in the distance ring, but Morty B-375 already knows he's late. He knew before he even got out of bed. He doesn't bother running, he'd get in just as much trouble for being a minute late as he would five minutes late.</p><p>He wears the typical Morty School uniform, the yellow shirt, red knit vest with jeans, and a backpack with his school ID tag. His number and the nickname he was given are displayed on it; Feral. It speaks volumes as to the type of Morty he is, more than his dyed red hair and well-defined canines do. He's abnormal, that was easy to see from a distance. He bumps right into a janitorial Rick on the steps leading into the building, but doesn't even apologize. He just keeps walking like it didn't happen.</p><p>However, something surprises this cold-hearted Morty— the Rick mumbles a small "sorry" after the initial contact. Morty freezes in his tracks, doing a double take. A Rick saying sorry? In what fucking universe?! This Rick doesn't even glance up to see who the offender was, and probably can't even tell it was a Morty, eyes glued to the floor as he swept leaves off the stairs with bulky, out-of-date headphones keeping him isolated from the others.</p><p>There was no fucking way that was a Rick. <em>No way.</em> Ricks never apologize. It was odd… but he doesn't have the time or energy to care. He had more important Ricks to piss off, after all. He doesn't realize that his school ID had fallen off of his backpack when the two collided. The white and black tag stands out against the bright green summer leaves. Rick stops for a moment, picking up the ID tag. He pulls his headphones off, the things blasting some kind of Japanese screamo, and looks back at the retreating Morty.</p><p>"H-hey kid, I think you— you dropped this."</p><p>Morty doesn't even glance back, trudging ahead. He tries to sneak into class. He would be able to blend right in with the rest of his peers if not for the bright red curls. Boy, does he <em>not</em> look excited to be here.</p><p>He opens the door to the classroom and suddenly all eyes are on him. <em>Great.</em> Why couldn't it ever be easy? He tries to traverse his way to his seat in the back of the room, but of course, gets called out, by another Morty no less.</p><p>"W-What's your reason for being late this time? Had to... uh... f-find someone to dye your hair?" The cleft-lipped Morty taunts lamely.</p><p>The teaching Rick bangs the pointer on his desk several times in an effort to silence the room. "Sh-shut up! B-375, you piece of shit, show up on time or not at all! Jesus, wh-which of you meat shields wants to tell this animal what he missed?"</p><p>A different Morty, one with tiger eyes, raises his hand. "W-we were going over graduation tomorrow! A-and we're all getting a Rick!"</p><p>Another one, one with scaly skin and no noise, laughs mockingly. He's not very good at sounding intimidating though. "Y-yeah right! N-no Rick wants Feral, h-he's an animal."</p><p>Feral rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. Oh, he was not in the mood for this. "Yeah, well, fuck Ricks! Who needs one anyway? Pieces of shit who can't wipe their own asses, right?"</p><p>Rick clears his throat loudly. "Normally I would give you detention for such a Rickcist comment, but seeing as this is the last day of class and I seriously can't stand to stay here a moment after class is over, I'll let it slide for now and give it to you next semester."</p><p>Feral huffs, crossing his arms. He'd probably have to kill himself to get out of the grueling cycle that is Morty School. The Mortys around him laugh. He knows this, he's been through this all last semester. It doesn't bother him. It's what comes out of Catty Morty's mouth that sets him on edge;</p><p>"He'd have a Rick by now if he hadn't eaten his first one."</p><p>Feral suddenly stands up and throws whatever he can grab at the poor Morty, causing him to hiss at run behind the teacher. The thing he threw was a piece of another Morty, made entirely out of rocks. He threw his head. He’s too distracted to notice, grabbing a pencil out of his bag and going for the hissing cat, his own sharp canines bared.</p><p>"Get your sorry ass over here, you literal fucking pussy! I'll show you who’s an animal!"</p><p>Rick frowns deeply, standing between the homicidal Morty and the poor cat-hybrid. With a rather bored expression, he pulls a fairly human-looking taser out from his robes and does not hesitate to zap Feral in the ribs, watching him drop like lead and twitch. The other Mortys’ reactions are a mixture between gasps, laughter and scared whines. Rick clears his throat</p><p>"Perhaps detention is too good for you. Class, don't do anything stupid. Well, m-more stupid than you usually do. I've got to escort this piece of shit to the principal's office."</p><p>Catty Morty peeks from around Rick, leaning against him more and more, purring softly. "W-w-what's gonna happen to him?"</p><p>"Not my fucking problem." Rick grunts. He gives the little cat a small scratch under the chin. He purrs intensely, obeying easily under the pets. A few other students get the poor Golem Morty— who had nothing to do with anything, mind you— back together. Feral grunts, the cool of the floor against his cheek feeling great. He listens and watches. He wants to feel bad for the golem, but he just doesn't. He can't. They're too cruel and too excited over such an asshole.</p><p>Speaking of asshole, Rick picks up Morty B-375 under his arms, and despite the disdain he has regarding the previous events, carries him in a way that isn't terribly uncomfortable. The principal's office door is already open, and the Rick sitting at the desk has already begun drinking for the day.</p><p>"Oh, fuck, not this again."</p><p>"Yes, this again."</p><p>"What did he use this time?"</p><p>"Q-100's head."</p><p>"Seriously? Hot damn, that must have been hilarious!"</p><p>"It kind of was."</p><p>Morty struggles a little, the feeling in his muscles slowly coming back to him. He doesn't struggle much, though, having gone through this procedure many, <em>many</em> times before. "C-Can I just go home now?"</p><p>"Ho-hold on, I gotta see if the security cams caught the footage...!"</p><p>The teacher rolls his eyes. "How about you let me get back to my class, and <em>then</em> you do that."</p><p>"Ugh, alright, <em>fine,</em> asshole. Then go back to class. And put that Morty in behavior cuffs, the nurse has a pair with his name on 'em. Literally."</p><p>Morty groans loudly, making more of a show of it than he should. Oh, he <em>hated</em> the behavior cuffs. It wasn’t any easier to just shut up and ignore everyone around you with them on. They were horrible.</p><p>"Seriously? I'm going to fail and you can't just let me go home? I <em>have</em> to sit through another terrible fucking day? In <em>behavior cuffs?"</em> Morty grumbles disapprovingly.</p><p>The teacher scoffs. "You could have just... not tried to stab N-33 with a pencil, if you hate them so much."</p><p>The principal takes another swig from his flask. "Wh-what he said. This is <em>supposed</em> to be punishment, you little shit."</p><p>"You're only even a little angry about it 'cause he flirts with you all the time!” Morty spits. “I-I wouldn't be surprised if you fuck him outside of work!"</p><p>Principal Rick's expression suddenly changes, from bored and slightly annoyed to legitimately angry. His gaze could pierce glass. "Now, you <em>know</em> what happens to Mortyfuckers, B-375, so that's not a fuckin' smartass little comment to make there. Get him a muzzle while you're down there too."</p><p>Morty growls, glaring harshly. Well, he's already losing, might as well turn the flame into a roaring wildfire, right?</p><p>"T-The only Mortys that would want to fuck a <em>R-Rick</em> are seriously fucked up ones! You're all <em>assholes!" </em>He screams.</p><p>The principal shrugs, turning to his computer. "Guess you'd know." It's clear the conversation is over.</p><p>Morty doesn't respond now. All he does is stare at the floor and mull over those three final words. God, he <em>hates</em> Ricks. The teacher carries Morty out of there before he can think of a rebuttal, headed down the hall to the nurse's station. The Rick there already has cuffs on the table.</p><p>"S-saw you 'round the corner, figured you need these." The nurse drawls.</p><p>"Thanks. Need a muzzle as well."</p><p>"Damn, feelin' feisty today, aren't'cha, little guy?"</p><p>Morty huffs indignantly, looking away. He just holds his hands out expectantly. The nurse Rick attaches both devises to Morty, then documents what they were.</p><p>"Give 'em back, don't ruin them, you know the drill by now, and if you don’t, the fuck they actually teachin’ you here?"</p><p>Morty gives a disinterested nod. God, he just wants to get this shitty day over with. The two return to the classroom in silence. The other Mortys seem to be having a lot of fun until the two return, at least. Poor Feral looks down in shame, sulking to his desk and pulling at his hair to cover his face. He just wants to hide from the universe.</p><p>The silence turns into whispers until the tiger-eyed Morty speaks up. "So... c-can we know why he has a muzzle?"</p><p>Catty Morty hushes him. "J-just drop it already, he wants to get back to class."</p><p>Teacher Rick takes up his trusty pointer again. "R-right as always, N-33; Now, when your Ricks are assigned to you, you'll only hear their dimension number. Don't worry about remembering it and then bothering a hundred fucking Ricks about it, they have yours on a ticket and will come find you. So stay together and don't disperse."</p><p>Catty Morty— N-33— purrs, tail flicking. It's <em>very</em> clear who he hopes to be assigned to. The rest listen intently and they're <em>excited.</em> It drives Feral crazy.</p><p>The class isn't over soon enough, and when the lunch bell rings, it's almost like the voice of freedom itself. Well, besides the fact that Morty can't eat with the muzzle on, or that the cuffs won't let him leave school grounds. But other than that... it still fucking sucks, who is he kidding? No food was fine, the school’s food fucking sucked anyway. It was the <em>leaving</em> part that bothered him. Or, not being able to. Morty walked as far away from the All-Purpose Room where the rest of the Mortys ate as he could, plopping against a wall separating him from the outside world. He watches the rest of the Morty's through a window, talking and eating, or outside playing games. He hated how much of followers they— and he by nature— were. He pulls out a notebook and lets out a little sigh. He was different. He <em>could</em> be different.</p><p>There's a faint whistling as Principal Rick approaches, no doubt going out to eat real food on his lunch break.</p><p>"See you later, B-375. Oh, wait—" He digs around in his pockets until he finds what he's looking for. It's Morty's school ID. "That emo janitor found this on the floor."</p><p>Morty huffs and snatches it from him. He quickly attaches it to his bag again, trying to shoot him a glare, but instead he comes across as drained, emotionless. It's very clear what he means to do, though, from how often he does it. Rick stares at him, and for a moment, he has a look of... well, something similar to pity.</p><p>"… I'm sick of seeing you on my registration, so do everyone a favor and graduate sometime soon. Take care of yourself." It's really hard to tell, but somewhere in that backhanded compliment is, in fact, a compliment of some kind. He leaves, the door bouncing once before actually closing.</p><p>Morty blinks. That was a tiny bit surprising. Still, it doesn't matter. He wasn't getting assigned. Again. Not that he wanted to, but... well, he was tired of being stuck here. Lunch passes, and he doesn't even end up using the notebook he pulled out. He just plays with the fastener on his badge, thinking to himself.</p><p>The bell rings before he even realizes lunch period was over, and he's forced to go to his other classes. They aren't so bad. Until he gets to gym, at least.</p><p>Now, Coach Rick was the biggest dick in the entire school— he <em>is</em> the biggest dick, not <em>has</em> the biggest dick. Get your mind out of the gutter. Granted, it was important that Mortys need to be fit and agile in order to keep themselves, and more importantly, their Ricks, alive. Yet despite his physical prowess, Morty is often forced to either sit out or humiliate himself, especially after the third gym mat was ripped open with his bare fucking hands. He swore to god that it was self-defense. Gym equipment is fucking expensive, man.</p><p>The entire class has the same reaction at seeing Morty come in. There was laughter and a little bit of fear. They stay lined up for the Coach just so they don't get in trouble, though.</p><p>One of them, it was hard to tell any apart anymore, fake-whispers, "H-hey guys, I-I heard Feral cussed at the principal!"</p><p>Morty rolls his eyes. Oh boy. He gets lined up and the other Mortys move away. He did <em>not</em> have the energy for this today. Coach Rick blows his whistle. Evidently, he doesn’t either.</p><p>"Alright, listen up! Just because it's your last day doesn't mean I'm goin' easy on ya! Everyone is doing Whirlpool today! Last Morty standing wins!"</p><p>The Mortys let out a collective whine. Fucking hell, not Whirlpool. It's a shitty exercise routine where they run around the gym together in a big circle until they either collapse from exhaustion or tap out like a pussy. Feral sighs. Whirlpool sucks, but at least it was easier than half the other shit they do. And luckily, gym was last class of the day. It was fine if he couldn’t walk later.</p><p>One of them pipes up from the back. “H-Hey, isn’t the janitor still cleaning in here? What if we get in his way?”</p><p>Coach Rick glances over to the far end of the gym, where all the tables are folded up against the wall. Indeed, there is Rick that Feral ran into earlier, cleaning up the remains of lunch with those dumb headphones on, oblivious to the world around him.</p><p>Coach rolls his eyes. "That's just another obstacle you'll have to overcome. Now get to it!"</p><p>He blows the whistle. The Mortys start running.</p><p>After a few laps around, one of them slips on something the janitor is cleaning. One thing leads to another and it ends in a few Mortys dog piled on the floor. The rest laugh, even Feral. The thing that slipped them? A <em>banana peel.</em> How cartoony. The janitor Rick takes off his headphones, staring down at the pile of Mortys with mild shock.</p><p>Coach Rick storms up to him, and despite this being entirely his own fault, starts to scream. "What the fuck?! You are paid to do one simple thing! How can you be so bad at it?!"</p><p>The running Mortys stop, watching the scene unfold. They feel bad for the janitor, but... none of them say a word. Feral doesn’t stop though. He hops over the pile of dog piled Mortys and lands between the two ricks. Then he looks at the janitor, really looks at him. The one that apologized. The one Rick in the universe that would say that word. Instead of judgmental look, he gives the janitor a confused one. The janitor in question looks pretty rough, like he hasn't slept in days. Heavy metal can be heard from the headphones around his neck, and the ID tag clipped to his jumper is on backwards, showing off the mag strip on the back instead of his personal information. He glances down at the Morty in front of him, and his expression shifts ever so slightly seeing boy's returned school ID.</p><p>The janitor then looks to the side, mumbling a quiet apology. Coach doesn't buy it for one second.</p><p>"Don't apologize, you weak fucking piece of shit! Do better!" Coach Rick curses, moving to push Feral out of the way, but the handle of a mop suddenly stops him.</p><p>"I can leave, nobody else needs to get hurt...." The janitor says calmly.</p><p>The Coach shoots the both of them harsh glares. "Stay here and clean up your mess, <em>Jumper,</em> and do it quickly.”</p><p>Feral doesn’t move, almost to spite the coach. This was.... unexpected. A Rick, worried about people getting hurt? Caring about <em>him</em> getting hurt? If it weren’t for the muzzle, he’d ask about it in the douchebag way that he knows how. He can’t stop staring at this strange Rick. He almost reminds him of.... well, <em>his</em> Rick.</p><p>The janitor narrows his eyes, but just pulls his headphones back on and steps to the side. He extends a hand to a fallen Morty, one who had taken the brunt of the pressure on the bottom of the pile, trying to get them all away from the area. The poor Morty takes his hand willingly. The other Mortys seem to like him relatively well enough but they don't stay long, knowing it'll piss the Coach off. Feral still doesn't budge. He watches silently— how else could he watch with that muzzle on? — and tries to pick the strange Rick apart. It's unnatural, seeing a Rick give a shit. Janitor Rick returns to mopping, completely blocking out the rest of the class once more.</p><p>Coach Rick blows his whistle to get everyone’s attention once more.</p><p>"That was completely pathetic! The All-Purpose Room is far more barren than any sort of alien planet! What if you were on Kammesh being chased by a wild Xangler?! You would be dead! Hope your Rick doesn't look back like this fucking freak, or else you'd have gotten him killed too! Whirlpool continues, and don't you dare drop out before you drop to the floor!"</p><p>There's a collective groan and some pretty pathetic squeaking as the poor Mortys continue running. They go around and around for a while before they start dropping on the ground, panting and rolling out the way. The grudge their way to the stairs of the small theater-and-announcement stage and collapse against those. The rest of the group starts slowly winding down and panting, one even starts crying. Coach Rick blows the whistle five minutes before the bell rings, watching the Mortys flop about. The Janitor had stuck around after finishing, silently rocking out in a far corner, having already known that there would be puddles of sweat, tears, and various kinds of alien slime and-or fur to clean up. He watches them, somehow looking even older and more tired than he did twenty minutes ago. Most of the Mortys are conked out on the stage, trying to recover from that intense run. A few are leaning over panting and crying. It's clear most of them <em>hate</em> the physical activity, as Mortys do. Feral is <em>still</em> jogging around, though, sweating and panting but showing no signs of stopping. He looks oddly at peace doing this, even with the horrid muzzle and cuffs on. One of the Mortys gives a half assed cheer for him before collapsing back to the floor.</p><p>Coach Rick shrugs, heading over to give Feral a cute novelty eraser as his prize, the kind that looks like a tiny snack food but can be taken apart in several pieces. This one takes the form of a two-toned bicicle, where the two can be separated from each other and have their sticks removed. He looks at it and shrugs, putting it away in his bag.</p><p>"Congratulations, now all you little shits get outta here so I can stop being legally responsible for you today.” Coach announces, already headed for the door. “Jesus fucking Christ."</p><p>The others are excited to go home, most collecting in their little friend groups and leaving together. Feral is congratulated for winning— as if he cares— but he just shrugs in response. It's all he can really do. He looks back and shoots the odd janitor a small look before going the opposite direction of all the other Mortys to get this stupid punishment off.</p><p>Nurse Rick is clearly be a bit busy flirting with another Rick on staff, but tries to act nonchalant about it when Morty turns the corner.</p><p>"Wow, school's out already? A'ight, gimme those back. They need to be disinfected so they don't grow mold over the summer." He states with a bored expression.</p><p>Morty sits on the corner on the little table they have for the sick Mortys, holding his hands out. It's actually a decently gentle request for the cuffs to be removed. If this Rick notices, he doesn't say anything. He taps the cuffs with his ID, and the light turns green, popping off easily. He drops it down the sanitation chute before repeating the process on the muzzle. Morty rubs his chin and cheek first chance he can.</p><p>The other Rick watches with an amused smile. "Handcuffs <em>and</em> a gag? Jeez, you're killing me over here, D-603~"</p><p>"Hey, sh-shut the fuck up, these have Morty cooties on 'em."</p><p>Morty huffs. "You know you'll hit first base faster if you actually fucking kissed right?"</p><p>The Ricks look at each other before they hurt out laughing.</p><p><em>"First base?</em> First base is for fuckin' pussies! A Rick who wants to get his dick wet doesn't need any of that flowery bullshit!" Says Nurse Rick between gasps for breath.</p><p>"Ugh, fuck you guys, alright? At least you'd hit <em>a</em> base. At the way you two are going, you'll be lucky to hit <em>any</em> base by next summer. I mean you clearly want to fuck so just do it already." Morty gives them a very unamused look and just leaves, not bothering to hear their responses. The two Ricks can be heard laughing, clearly not taking anything that he said seriously.</p><p>Morty finds a spot to sit down and just… think. He thinks about where he wants to go. He could go back to his dorm just to leave this godforsaken school, or... or he could go see what was up with that janitor. It kind of bothered him that he was so nice. Several other teachers pass Morty on their way out, but they hardly give him a glance except for his own teacher, who stops.</p><p>"We're locking up, you should head back to your dorm. Don't want a repeat of last semester." He says with a tired expression.</p><p>Morty growls and slinks away in response, heading out the building without another word. He didn't want a repeat of last semester, or <em>any</em> semester for that matter. He doesn't go to his dorm though. He leaves school grounds entirely. Fuck this entire place. Fuck this entire <em>city.</em> He spots the tallest building within reasonable walking distance and suddenly gets the urge to climb. Climb and jump, then it would all be over.</p><p>Some other poor Morty would take his place anyway.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Ups and Downs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Morty forms an uncommon bond with the janitor from school.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings for this chapter:</p>
<p>-Explicit violence<br/>-Suicide attempt<br/>-Mentioned character death<br/>-Mentioned pedophilia</p>
<p>Please do not read if this content makes you feel unsafe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing Morty does once inside the building is head straight to the lobby’s bathroom to change. If he’s gonna leave a corpse, there’s <em>no way</em> in hell he wants it to be wearing this stupid uniform. A red hoodie, a ripped vest and some dirty jeans are smushed at the bottom of his backpack. Fully dressed, he’s clearly somebody trying to look intimidating without coming across as a poser.</p>
<p>He takes about three steps outside of the bathroom before stopping dead in his tracks. Standing before him, in front of the elevators, was the janitor from earlier. He must have teleported in while Morty was in the bathroom. He glances at Morty when the kid approaches, taking his headphones off.</p>
<p>"Oh, it's— it's you. You live here? Haven't seen you around before. What floor do you want?" He asks.</p>
<p>Morty blinks, shoving his hands in his pockets. He presses the elevator call again, as if it would speed things along somehow. He tries not to give him much attention. Nice or not, he was still a Rick.</p>
<p>"Roof…." He responds, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible. Rick gives him... an odd look. He pulls out his phone, and with a tap, the headphones fall silent.</p>
<p>"You, uh, you realize the roof's locked, right” He says after several seconds. He shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. “If you wanna... w-wanna jump, you gotta... fucking, I don't know, parkour up from a window or some convoluted shit. Seems like way too much work, you might as well just go home, kid."</p>
<p>Morty just shrugs, sinking into the jacket. "Then just take me to the highest floor I can get to. It's no big deal."</p>
<p>Rick frowns. The elevator dings, opening to let a couple other Ricks out. One of them purposefully bumps shoulders with him, and he instinctively grabs Morty by the shoulders to keep him away from them. Morty pulls away from him as fast as possible, the contact feeling weird. Nobody's done that to protect him in a long time. He sighs heavily, ushering the kid into the elevator and selecting the eighth floor for himself.</p>
<p>The Rick that came out last runs back. "Oh, wait, hold the door—!"</p>
<p>He pokes his head back into the elevator, presses all the floor buttons with his palms, and runs out laughing.</p>
<p>"Have fun, <em>Jumper!</em>"</p>
<p>Rick cringes at the comment, leaning against the elevator wall as the door shuts. Morty groans. Ricks are such assholes. The elevator starts moving, stopping on every single floor. On the third floor, a different Rick is waiting to go up, but doesn't enter, only sticking his foot in to keep the door from closing. He whips out a phone.</p>
<p>"Ha-ha-holy shit, did <em>Jumper</em> get a fucking <em>Morty?!</em>” He bursts out laughing, clearly recording a Snapchat. “That's hilarious! Don't fuck this one too, M-113!"</p>
<p>Morty's eyes widen, looking up at the Rick beside him. Suddenly things started making sense. He actually cares about Mortys. Specifically, his own. But where was his...? The Rick in the elevator with him grits his teeth, but doesn't make eye contact.</p>
<p>"F-fuck you...."</p>
<p>Morty feels like he’s missing something. “What the fuck are you talking about?”</p>
<p>The Rick in the doorway laughs again. "Y-you didn't know?! Fucker's on the <em>‘No-Mortys’ </em>list! You didn't see that viral video where he nearly ki—"</p>
<p>"Sh-shut up!” M-113 Rick screams over him. “J-just shut the fuck up, we're not even going to the same fucking floor...!"</p>
<p>Morty looks between the two Ricks with wide, confused eyes. "W-Wait, I-I thought Ricks that do that with their Mortys are... t-they're killed r-right? O-Or... or something happens to them... r-right...?"</p>
<p>"Y-you gotta see this video, it's soooo fucking funny...!” The other Rick insists as he forces his way into the elevator, and the door finally closes. He shoves his phone in Morty’s face. “Augh, stupid fucking wifi, elevators always fuck the signal— HEY!"</p>
<p>M-113 grabs the phone right out of his hands, shoving it in his back pocket and backing up against the wall. Strangely, though... there are tears in his eyes. The other Rick lunges, grappling onto his clothes aggressively and slamming his head into the elevator wall.</p>
<p>"G-give that back, asshole...!"</p>
<p>Something in Morty snaps once the violence starts. Without warning, his teeth sink into the aggressive Rick, right into his calf. He bites down and pulls, not unlike a dog with a new toy. The Rick screams in agony, immediately crumpling to the floor. The elevator stops on the fourth floor, and a completely innocent Rick and his Morty watch the scene in abject horror.</p>
<p>"W-we... we'll catch the next one...."</p>
<p>The elevator continues moving up and the aptly-named Feral Morty lets go, only to shove his victim to the other side of the elevator, growling. His teeth are beyond bloody. His eyes had a crazed look to them. He stands in front of poor Jumper Rick defensively, who can only stare in abject horror at the scene before him. No one's coming near either of them. He growls and it's <em>terrifying</em>.</p>
<p>The elevator dings on the fifth floor and Morty backs out, pulling Jumper Rick along with him. He leans back in to send the bleeding Rick down to the first floor and the door shuts, leaving them in the hallway alone. He wipes his bloody mouth with his sleeve. It blends in almost perfectly with the sweater.</p>
<p>"Can I use your apartment?" He asks as if any of that didn't even happen.</p>
<p>Jumper Rick shakes a bit. "U-uh... I-I... I guess... d-don't hurt me...."</p>
<p>Shaking, crying <em>and</em> apologizing? What was his deal? Was this even a Rick?</p>
<p>Morty gives him a strange look. "Well, take me there. And I'm not going to hurt you. Just take me to your apartment, let me get cleaned up and I'll leave."</p>
<p>"... Th-through the door, right...?" Rick stutters. He clearly doesn't want this kid to jump, and is still reeling from the gore he just witnessed. He's got a spot of blood on his pant leg.</p>
<p>Morty rolls his eyes “Yeah, sure, through the door, now let’s move it, Grandpa. I got places to be.”</p>
<p>Rick doesn't argue twice. He does <em>not</em> want to fuck with this kid. He uses his ID to open the door, and from a glance, Rick M-113's profile looks... way different. His nickname listed is "J-rock Rick" and the photo is of an extremely typical, run-of-the-mill Rick. It's clear whatever changed him, happened not that long ago.</p>
<p>With the door unlocked, Morty pushes himself inside, taking a look around. The mess somewhat surprises him. Wasn’t this Rick a janitor? Why should he care? He was just here to get cleaned and leave. But... This was the same Rick that turned in his badge, the same one that protected him before... one that inexplicably <em>cares. </em>He needs to ask questions.</p>
<p>"So... what's your deal? And where's your bathroom?" He demands. Rick shuts the door quietly behind them, kicking off his shoes by it and falling face-down on the couch.</p>
<p>"Bathroom's... somewhere over there.” He gestures lazily in a vague direction. “Don't— don't fucking touch my medicine cabinet."</p>
<p>Morty grumbles. Real helpful, this one. He manages to find it himself. The mess isn’t so bad, unlike the last time. Oh, he was going to get in so much trouble for this... if he was even around tomorrow.</p>
<p>"You didn't answer my question, jackass. What's your deal?" He shouts back into the living room. Rick mumbles to himself before rolling into his back.</p>
<p>"I have no idea what you're talking about, kid... hey, you have your own cell phone? Y-you can have that jackass' phone if you want it, otherwise I’m… I’m gonna rip it open and take the gold they use. Use it to pay for rent or whatever."</p>
<p>"I don't need a phone.” Morty responds with an eye roll. He left the door open and can be seen, but he doesn't really care. He takes off the jacket and the sweater. He swipes the nearest towel to start cleaning the blood off of his body. “Why are you so nice to Mortys? To me? What kind of a Rick are you?"</p>
<p>Rick turns to retort, but whatever he's about to say dies on his tongue when he sees this kid's body. His wrists are bruised from fighting the behavior cuffs all day, and his upper arms are scarred. They look like some kind of animal bites. There's another scar along his chest, long and ragged. It makes him seem much more vulnerable than he truly is. Rick can feel the tears returning. Oh god, what happened to him?</p>
<p>"... I-I... M-Morty...."</p>
<p>Morty blinks, turning to him. He looks oddly innocent, despite what he just did; despite the blood, the scars, and the overall depression that hangs around him. Deep down, he’s still a sweet, cute Morty.</p>
<p>"Rick?"</p>
<p>Saying his name out loud kind of hurts.</p>
<p>Rick rubs his eyes harshly, trying to get the tears to go away. "I-I'm not— I didn't <em>f-fuck</em> my <em>grandson,</em> that guy was just being a prick... a-and I put myself on the <em>‘No-Morty’</em> list because I'm retired from adventures...! I-I just wanna stay here and disappear, don't need some government jerkoffs to come tell me what to fucking do with my life...."</p>
<p>Morty looks away. He kind of feels bad. For a Rick. It was insane. He just cleans himself off, making sure to get the blood off his face. He picks at the scar on his chest as he works.</p>
<p>"He said there was a video where you kissed. How do you explain that?" He asks after several seconds of thinking.</p>
<p>Rick turns away as well, curling up on the couch. Suddenly, he seems very small. "... Th-that's... that's not what he was trying to say...." He mumbles.</p>
<p>Morty walks back over, sitting on the coffee table, his clothes and bag in his lap. He pushes them to the floor. for the first time in what feels like forever, he's interested in someone else. A Rick. It was strange.</p>
<p>"The only other thing I can think of is... did you kill your Morty?"</p>
<p>Rick glances at him for just a split second before sighing deeply. He digs out his laptop from under an old pizza box, searching for something online. When he finds it, he puts it on the table for Morty to see. Morty slides back, giving it room on the table with him. It’s a video called "JUMPER RICK: EPIC FAIL 2019." An ad for purified fleeb juice plays first, and Rick sighs.</p>
<p>"Ho-hold on, you gotta... gotta wait for this bullshit to go away...."</p>
<p>Morty shares Rick’s irritation, skipping it as soon as the option appears. From this side, his face can be seen better, the curls don't completely cover his face. His eyes are a dark green, unlike the brown typical Mortys sport. It’s odd, and Rick finds himself staring accidentally. But as soon as he hears the sound of the news anchor Ricks, he cringes in on himself. He can’t bear to watch, not again.</p>
<p>The video appears to be from a news livestream, showing this very apartment complex with a crowd of cheering Ricks and their terrified Mortys waiting at the bottom.</p>
<p>"W-we interrupt whatever boring-ass fucking bullshit we were talking about before with this breaking news! A rogue Rick appears to be attempting to jump off of complex 76-B."</p>
<p>"Yeah, ha ha, loot at him, all scared and freaked out by the crowd, what a fucking pussy! Think he'll chicken out?"</p>
<p>"No way, that's M-113, A.K.A. "J-rock Rick," who seems to have had a little thing with his Morty, ending with the Smiths sending him to jail and driving his Morty to suicide, as it should have."</p>
<p>"Yeah, th-those two really belong in hell together, f-fucking pussies. You see this, motherfuckers? This is what happens to Ricks who give a flying fuck about Mortys—!"</p>
<p>Morty slams the laptop shut, unable to bear watching more. He swallows hard. That was… a lot toke in. His words stutter, unusual for him as he tries to form a coherent sentence.</p>
<p>"Y-you... you really did... care about him...? You... you were <em>together</em>...?"</p>
<p>Rick is covering his face with one of his hands. He takes a deep, shaky breath before he answers. "I-it... it was complicated... n-not something I... I'm proud of. He... k-kids whose only friends in life are family members tend to... t-to develop incestuous feelings for them... I never did anything to him, I swear! I-I just... let him act on it. Enabled it. I-I never should've done that, b-but I was scared of how he'd react if I said no. Guess that version of me's out there somewhere...."</p>
<p>"But you still cared about him." It isn't a question. Rick moves his hand, tears streaming down his face. Morty rubs along the scar across his chest again. He shakes a little. It would've been so much better if his Rick just went to prison. That would've been easier. He could have dealt with that normally.</p>
<p>"O-of course I cared about him...” He responds quietly. “H-he was Morty...."</p>
<p>Morty looks him over, then he looks away only to look back at him and away he again. It was the first time he’s felt nervous in a while.</p>
<p>"I... you... you're alive... you're not.... they didn't do anything to you...? Why...? How...?"</p>
<p>Rick wipes his face off on the sleeve of his jumper sweater. "A-are you talking about ANT? I-I have a feeling they’ve been trying… especially after I... <em>survived</em>...."</p>
<p>Morty’s head snaps back up to look at him. That name… his Rick mentioned it before. ".... What's ant?"</p>
<p>Rick sighs deeply. "A-N-T. Stands for "Attack, Neutralize, Target." Yes, the acronym is out of order, but their chairman is X-798 "Dyslexic Rick," who has three guns on his person at all times, so maybe don't tell him that it is. It started out as a good idea, basically an organized pedophile hunt to bring Ricks who sexually abused their Mortys to justice. But over the years, it's gotten... messy. Went from a legitimate part of the police department to some sort of corrupt fucking vigilante ‘justice system,’ and if you can’t hear it in my voice, the words ‘justice’ and ‘system’ are written in <em>giant fucking greentext.</em> Slowly started unfairly targeting mutual or nonsexual Rick-Morty couples, executing Ricks without fair trials, careless about collateral damage, hurting or killing innocent Mortys and their families... what started as a legitimate noble cause warped into something as wretched as the thing they were fighting against."</p>
<p>Morty readjusts to turn away a little, trying to hide the horrific look of realization on his face. He sits there in silence for a while, thinking.</p>
<p>"I... I should go..." He stands up, sliding off the table.</p>
<p>Rick bites his lip, staring at the blinking battery light on the side of the laptop.</p>
<p>"Y-you... you don't h-have to...." He mutters.</p>
<p>Morty puts his sweater and vest on. "I... I do." He looks at the door, then around the room. His eyes land on the window. "T-thanks for... for letting me stay a while."</p>
<p>Rick watches him. It's clear that he wants Morty to stay, but he's proven himself to be extremely passive. "... You’re welcome... thanks for... y-you know, giving a shit about my life's story, and all that...."</p>
<p>Morty walks over to the window instead of the door. He opens it, feeling the air. It ruffles his curls as he stares into the city with disgust. He wants to go home.</p>
<p>"Well... t-thanks for... being nice to me. Nobody has been, since I was forced to stay on the Citadel..."</p>
<p>Rick suddenly gets up, stumbling over some garbage and debris. He grabs Morty by the hood, voice cracking in fear. "Y-you said you wouldn't...! Y-you... I-I can't let you go...!"</p>
<p>Morty pulls against him, wiggling out of his clothes with ease. “I’ll just do it another way. I don't want to go back, I'm tired of that fucking school! J-Just let me go, I-I wanna go home..." He escapes and climbs onto the ledge. Five floors up wasn’t a guaranteed death. Fuck, he has a long way to climb. Rick takes a step back, gripping his hair in sheer panic. He can't be responsible for another one....</p>
<p>"P-please, come back,” He begs, “y-you don't— you don't have to go back to that school! I-it ends tomorrow...! J-just... just c-come back, please, I can— I can help you...!"</p>
<p>Morty's voice cracks and he turns. "Ricks don't want me...! I'm the worst Morty! They keep making me do it again and again, every fucking month! I-I can't keep doing this! I want to go home!"</p>
<p>Rick reaches out, but is afraid to touch him, afraid of scaring the poor kid into falling. Oh, how he sees so much of his own Morty in this boy….</p>
<p>"I-I... I'll help you... I p-promise... just... j-just come back... w-we’ll get some pizza, and play video games... don't— don't do this...." Is all he can do not to sob.</p>
<p>Morty sniffs, rubbing his face harshly against his sleeve. That just smears more blood on himself. His body shakes with a single sob, and somehow, he finds himself climbing back inside, standing there and shaking. This kid, nicknamed 'Feral', unwanted by Ricks and Mortys alike, feared by them… looks up at Rick with big watery eyes that look more like those of a puppy. He's tired, hungry, and looks like he's been through absolute hell.</p>
<p>He whispers a single word; "H-how...?"</p>
<p>Rick drops to his knees, hugging this Morty tightly. He feels so scared, so upset and afraid. It's not his Morty, but the thought of seeing this one attempt to take his own life just makes him wish he had done more to save his own. "... I-I don't know... b-but... but we can't try if you're dead...."</p>
<p>Morty goes tense. He shakes violently, his breathing harsh. It's the first real hug he's had in a <em>long</em> time. Slowly, though, he eases into it. His cheek presses against Rick's shoulder and he burrows his face in the crook of his neck. His little hands grip at Rick’s jumper. It’s warm, and it's become soft from nonstop usage.</p>
<p>"D-Don't wanna go back... not gonna p-pass... never do..." Morty babbles.</p>
<p>"Then don't... just... go tomorrow, a-and you can drop out before next semester. Every Morty has a Rick, you just… haven't found yours yet...." Rick rubs Morty's back in a calming manner.</p>
<p>"H-He's... h-he's dead... my fault... shoulda... d-died with him..."</p>
<p>Rick sighs quietly. "Maybe that's true, maybe it's not... but, that doesn't mean there aren't more out there... infinite Ricks, you know...?"</p>
<p>Morty sniffles. "... Infinite a-assholes... except you. M-maybe you're my Rick...." He's getting more and more relaxed by the second, leaning fully against Rick. He feels safe, wanted. Cared for. It feels nice. His breathing evens out and he whispers quietly. He's falling asleep.</p>
<p>Rick slowly stands up, picking up the tired Morty and taking him to the couch. He thinks over those words. "... Maybe that's true...."</p>
<p>Morty sniffles again. He absolutely refuses to let Rick go, nuzzling against him. He mumbles softly, a bit hard to understand, but impossible to mistake;</p>
<p>"...L-love you...Gran'pa Rick...."</p>
<p>Rick's eyes widen a little bit. He... he never thought he'd hear those words ever again... and just like that, Morty’s asleep. it's the first time he's felt safe enough to really sleep since... well, probably over a year. Rick gets comfortable on the sofa, pulling a blanket over them both. He thinks over everything, absolutely everything; what they've talked about, his own life choices. He fucks around on his phone for several hours until it finally hurts his eyes enough to fall asleep.</p>
<p>It’s warm.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Human Shoplifting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rick and Morty struggle to figure each other out.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings for this chapter:</p><p>-Mentioned eating disorder<br/>-Mentioned cannibalism<br/>-Mentioned past abuse<br/>-Attempted self-harm</p><p>Please do not read if this content makes you feel unsafe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Morty wakes, he groans. He pulls the blanket over his head and burrows further into his bed. When did it get so warm...? His eyes snap open, faced with the worn-out jumper he was laying on. <em>Oh shit.</em> He peeks out. Rick is still asleep, but starts to stir when he feels the weight on top of his body start squirming. There's a new box of pizza sitting out on the coffee table, cold after being left out all night. Morty is completely tense. He pulls the blanket closer to himself like it would defend him. What was he doing, sleeping with this Rick? What the <em>fuck</em> happened last night? He's scared, but won't show it.</p><p>"F-fuck... M-Morty, Morty get up, we're gonna be late...." Rick stutters, but doesn’t move to push Morty off. Morty doesn't look too happy at this, but his guard drops as he remembers his little meltdown yesterday. He… he can trust this Rick.</p><p>"What's it matter anyway? I won't be assigned, I never am...." Morty mumbles. Despite saying that, he reaches into his backpack to switch into that horrid yellow shirt. He doesn't bother with the pants. He stuffs his jacket into the bag and slings it over a shoulder with a yawn.</p><p>Rick bites his lip, shoving the phone in his pocket. He searches for his portal gun, finding it under last night’s pizza box’s lid. "C-come on, Morty— I still need to get paid, and there's <em>no</em> way in hell I'm leaving you here by yourself, not after yesterday."</p><p>Morty sighs, playing with strap on his backpack. "T-they're gonna be mad... I wasn't in my dorm, I attacked a Rick— I-I'll be in behavior cuffs all day.”</p><p>"You'll be fine... you're arriving with staff, after all."</p><p>Rick adjusts his ID tag before shooting a portal. Morty huffs, but obediently follows him through. What else could he do? Rick gives Morty a small, reassuring pat on the shoulder. Morty is quick to pull away.</p><p>"I-I'll see you at the graduation ceremony, kid. Don't— don't try and kill anybody else." He smiles just a tiny bit. Morty gives him a weird look before he trudges off towards the other Mortys. They either stare or quickly walk away. He finds a place in the corner of the courtyard and plops down, hoping not to be seen by anyone else for the rest of the day.</p><p> </p><p>By five, the plaza is bustling with Ricks ready to receive their Mortys, some for the first time! The soon-to-be ex-class are all given cute little graduation caps to wear. Mortys laugh with each other, both from a place of nerves and excitement, as they wait. It’s thrilling for them. They all look pretty fucking adorable, even Feral, somehow. He’s looking forward to getting it all over and done with.</p><p>The ceremony begins and one by one, the Mortys are called onstage. None of them know who their Ricks are going to be, and they’re nervous. Except Catty, that is. He squeaks when he finds out he’s being given to the teacher he’s been so lovingly fixated on. Feral zones out the whole time, knowing that they won’t call his name. To nobody’s surprise, the Principal does not... until the very end of the list. He squints, looking at his paper closely.</p><p>"Uh, and finally— to my <em>utter</em> surprise— our final graduate, B-375, who has been assigned to, uh... to M-113. Uh... everyone, please give a round of applause for your Mortys...!"</p><p>Feral’s eyes widen, sitting up. He was assigned? How?! He thought he’d never get assigned! All of the Mortys cheer and turn to congratulate him. They were <em>actually</em> proud of him? He couldn’t help but be excited and filled with dread at the same time. <em>M-113...</em> it sounded familiar. The audience of Ricks erupt into cheers, and fun music plays over the speakers as the two groups of blue and yellow are herded off to the meeting area where they are to be picked up by their assigned Ricks.</p><p>It takes a bit, as the Ricks are overly excited and try to shout over each other to find their assigned Mortys, and for a while, Feral is kept on edge waiting. Some Mortys hug their Ricks, some bounce in excitement. He watches his former teacher pick Catty up under the arms and simply walks away with him, a small smile on his face. Catty purrs loudly as he’s carried away, tail flicking happily and shooting his former classmates double peace signs.</p><p>Just as the crowds begin to really thin out, somebody taps Feral on the shoulder. M-113— the sad, janitor-J-rock-jumper Rick that he knows— smiles at him, holding a ticket with his number on it.</p><p>"Let's get out of here."</p><p>Feral turns to this Rick— <em>his</em> Rick— with wide eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but he blindly reaches for him, taking his hand. He... he finally finished this stupid school. It was finally over.</p><p>He’s free.</p><p>The two of them leave together, sneaking out a back way so that Rick isn't flagged down to help clean up any more than he already has. Once they're far enough away, he hands Morty a little box as they walk. Inside is that stolen phone from yesterday, hacked and factory reset to the default.</p><p>"Here. Graduation gift. You can look at aaaaaaaall the memes and porn that you want, or whatever it is that kids these days actually use them for. Just don't touch Tik Tok, they're— they’re a huge fucking scam run by Chinese communists to condition us to the aryan type by hiding posts made by poor, fat, ugly and disabled people. And I'm not just making that up, that's a real thing. Look it up. Just— just open a new tab up there and Google it, it's actually fucking true."</p><p>Morty smiles, actually pretty touched by the gift. He starts up the phone, setting it up for himself as they walk. Rick puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him from wandering too far while he's distracted. The first thing Morty does is install several entertainment apps. He tries to change the background while they load, but he doesn’t like any of the defaults. He downloads Facebook. It takes a few guesses to get his password but he does eventually.</p><p>It's late by now, so most of the Ricks still out are drunk or high or both and don't pay them any mind. When they return to the apartment building, two other newly assigned pairs are in the lobby, talking and laughing about how excited they are to start adventuring again. One of the Mortys gasp when they see Feral.</p><p>“W-woah... h-hey, Blind Morty, look!”</p><p>“Y-yeah, real funny, let’s make fun of the blind Morty. What the fuck is it?”</p><p>“S-sorry, jeez, you know I didn’t mean it like that... it’s Feral, he got a Rick!”</p><p>Feral stops, glancing up. He instinctively lets out a defensive growl, expecting the worst. Rick's grip on his shoulder tightens, trying to keep him from attacking over what appears to be a compliment. Blind Morty's new partner, Deaf Rick, looks over as well, despite not being aware of the conversation.</p><p>"Hey, more newbies! We're having a little party on my flat, want to join us? I-I can't hear shit, so just nod!"</p><p>Jumper Rick looks shocked at the invitation. "U-uh... I... don't know...? What do you wanna do...?" He looks down at Feral for help. Morty steps away and shakes his head slowly. He doesn’t seem very comfortable with socializing.</p><p>The third Morty whines a little. He has a forked tongue that sticks out when he speaks; “W-we’re fucking imprethhed, you should totally come...! It’ll be tonth of fun!”</p><p>Deaf Rick cocks his head, trying to figure out what’s happening. “D-did he say no? Did they say no? Look, no one’s judging you for, y’know, <em>eating</em> anyone, just don’t eat anybody here.”</p><p>Feral tenses, pulling his hair down to hide his face. Jumper frowns deeply, a look of concern on his face. He looks back up at the other pairings and shakes his head. "Hey, uh, thanks for the offer, but it's been a long day and we're both really tired. Maybe some other time."</p><p>The third Rick, whose eyelids close sideways, gives them a thumbs up. "N-no problem, gotta get a good night's sleep so you two can go adventuring tomorrow...!"</p><p>Feral ignores the rest of the conversation and walks towards the stairway, swinging the heavy door open. He takes the stairs by himself. It’s clear the comment got to him. Jumper Rick presses his lips together tightly. "U-uh, nice to m-meet you, but I gotta go... Morty...!"</p><p>Morty dashes up five flights of stairs without breaking a sweat. He pants and tries to pull the door open, but... doesn’t have residential access on his ID card. <em>God fucking dammit.</em> He groans and sits against the door, pulling his phone out. He scrolls through his old pictures on Facebook. It hurts to look at them, but he finds what he was looking for. He and Rick, his <em>original</em> Rick. His arms are wrapped around Rick’s neck, and they’re both smiling. It’s happy. He saves it as his wallpaper.</p><p>It takes Rick quite a lot longer to climb all five flights of stairs, and by the time he reaches Morty, he’s resorted to crawling. He plops to the ground beside Morty, catching his breath for a solid minute before he can speak.</p><p>"Y-you... you're a... a real fuckin' good runner... holy <em>shit</em>…."</p><p>Morty doesn’t look at him, curling up. He looks at the picture, staring at it. When Rick can breathe again, he sits up more. He doesn't touch the kid, or really look at him. He's a little unsure of what to do.</p><p>"... I... I'm not gonna ask what that was about... but... h-how do you feel...?"</p><p>Morty just shakes his head. He doesn’t know how he feels, honestly. He hiccups, trying not to cry. The phone slips from his hand, landing screen-up. He covers his face and starts crying. Rick glances down at the photo. Slowly, he reaches an arm around Morty's shoulder, trying not to startle him, and pulls him against his side to cry.</p><p>"H-hey, it's... it's okay.” He says quietly. “Feelings are scary, I know...."</p><p>Morty grips his jumper, letting out a heartbreaking sob. It’s clear what he wants. He wants to be home with Rick, <em>his</em> Rick... but nothing can be done about that now. Rick hesitates as he looks back at the phone— he'd hate to breach this kid's privacy, but... it's clear he needs to figure out what this Morty's deal is. He slowly scrolls down the Facebook memory feed, taking a look at Feral Morty's life in reverse;</p><p>The top picture is of Morty, bloodied and bruised and looking like he crawled straight out of <em>hell.</em> Tears run down his face. He looks horrified. Rick’s real-life reaction is about the same. The only caption is <em>I wanna go home. </em>The post is dated about six months ago, and the location tagged is on the Citadel; like he’d tried to post it somewhere without internet, only going through once brought here. How… curious.</p><p>The previous picture is a far cry from that— it shows him looking down at the camera with a bright smile. He’s sitting in his Rick’s lap, with the domed window of the space cruiser showing the cosmos around their heads like a halo. The Rick looks... content. He’s smiling a little too. But, just a little. He otherwise has a very concentrated expression<em>. Last adventure of the summer with Grandpa Rick!</em> Morty looked beyond sweet and innocent a year ago. Whatever happened in those six months, <em>broke</em> <em>him.</em></p><p>The one before is kind of an awkward selfie, Morty laid out on a very nice hotel bed. His hair was dyed a neon blue then. He tries his best to give the camera a sexy smile, the edge of his shirt riding up a bit. <em>Somebody said I probably wouldn’t graduate middle school. Guess who’s wrong and has to suck my dick?</em> Context clues can’t indicate anybody but Rick. They were in a relationship it seemed. The comment section is spammed by Jerry, demanding his son come home and promises of legal action if Rick did not return him. He doesn’t mention Beth.</p><p>Rick— the <em>real</em> Rick— bites his lip as things start to become clearer for him. He sets the phone down on the floor, deciding he’s seen enough, and picks Morty up very carefully, sitting him in his lap, fully encasing him in a hug.</p><p>"Oh, Morty... it's okay, you gotta— you gotta just let it all out. It's okay to cry...." He whispers, a true pain in his voice. Morty grips Rick’s jumper tightly, openly sobbing. His Rick was his caretaker as well as his romantic partner. Of course he was upset. Of course he was depressed. Of course he wanted to die.</p><p>
  <em>He wanted to be with his Rick.</em>
</p><p>Rick rubs his back for a bit, glancing back down at that hotel picture. He <em>certainly</em> wasn't going <em>there</em> with this Morty...! But it does give him an idea. He lets Morty go for a second to pull up his jumper, letting it cover the small, crying Morty underneath. Morty gasps, tensing up horribly. It's warm between Rick's undershirt and the insulating wool, and has a very calming effect on him. He eases against this Rick, relaxing almost completely. His crying stops. He’s starting to become more comfortable around him. Rick rubs Morty's back again through the sweater, feeling him finally start to relax.</p><p>"Th-there you go... you're safe, see? You're okay...."</p><p>Morty looks up at him through the neck hole. His green eyes almost appear to glow from under the shirt, giving him an... odd look. Despite everything, he does end up feeling safe. He looks like it’s okay. Like it’ll be okay.</p><p>Putting Morty's new phone away in a pocket, Rick stands up, still holding Morty against him as he uses his ID to unlock the door and head back to his— <em>their</em>— apartment. Morty forces his head out of the neck hole now, resting his cheek on Rick’s collarbone.</p><p>“Not gonna eat you...” He mumbles.</p><p>Rick laughs a little nervously at that statement. "U-uh... thanks... that's a— a real comforting thought, I think...."</p><p>Morty looks up at him. “You don’t know... they didn’t tell you...?”</p><p>Rick sits down on the couch, laying back and getting comfortable. He pulls the pizza from last night closer. "Who didn't tell me what?"</p><p>“About me... they didn’t tell you...?”</p><p>Rick takes a slice of the stale pizza, offering it to Morty first. Morty refuses. He sighs. "I don't know if it's evident, but nobody really talks to me, or pays me any attention. That's how I was able to hack into their systems and steal you without anybody suspecting a thing. I'm not worth noticing."</p><p>“You stole me...?”</p><p>"W-well...” Rick hesitates. He doesn't want to upset Morty again. “I said that I would help you... a-and you would rather die than repeat again, so I... I made it so that you wouldn't have to repeat. "</p><p>“Now you have to take care of me... isn’t that worse...? Why would you want me at all?”</p><p>"I-I... I promised, remember...? That I'd h-help you... so really, who cares?"</p><p>“You know I’m not him, right?” Morty wiggles out Rick’s sweater, sliding off his lap. He sits opposite on the couch, curling himself into a ball. It’s almost protective. “I’m not your Morty.”</p><p>Rick stares up at the ceiling blankly. "... I-I know."</p><p>“You just met me, you don’t<em> really</em> care about me. You don’t even <em>know</em> me.” Morty huffs. He takes off the dumb yellow shirt again, replacing it with his own hoodie. Despite how mangled his front is, his back is relatively untouched. He burrows inside the red cotton and stares at the ceiling. “I’m not him... and you’re not my Grandpa.”</p><p>"... I-I know that too... l-look, there's no replacing either of them, and there never will be because our realities are split by the decisions we make, and we change as people based on those slight decisions made. M-112 is probably miserable and alone because he rejected Morty, and M-114 is probably rotting in a human jail cell because he failed his escape attempt. There isn't a <em>single</em> other Rick out there like me, a-and there never will be, just like there'll never be another Morty like M-113. There'll never be another Rick like B-375. And... and I think that's okay."</p><p>Morty looks at him, then looks away. He hugs himself tighter. “... You’re a lot like him. I <em>hate</em> it. I don’t want to replace him. Other Mortys mourn and move on, I... I-I can’t let him go... especially not for another Rick....”</p><p>"A-and I don't expect you to... you think I've let go of my Morty? Look at me, I'm a fuckin' train wreck! I-I don't want to replace your Rick, but maybe— maybe we can be alone together...."</p><p>Morty looks down and thinks. He must like the idea, as he nods and slides back over. He’s silent for a while before he speaks. “Okay.” It’s not a lot, but... there’s a lot of emotion in his gaze. He’s terrified. Rick offers the cold pizza slice in his hand back to Morty.</p><p>"Y-you must be hungry. I didn't see you eat anything yesterday...."</p><p>Morty refuses again. “Do you eat anything besides pizza?”</p><p>Rick glances around. Pepperoni <em>Hot Pocket</em> wrappers and a spare pepperoni <em>Tostitos Rolls</em> bag lay on the ground in various states of ‘attempting to throw perfectly so it lands in the trash bin on the other side of the room yet failing because of wind resistance and laziness.’</p><p>"... No."</p><p>Morty snorts, followed by an actual laugh. It’s the first laugh— or even <em>smile</em>— Rick’s gotten from the boy. “Aw man, we need to expand your diet.”</p><p>Rick finds himself smiling a bit in return. How long has it been since he's felt the need to do that...? "I, uh... take it from earlier that you... n-not to be rude or anything, I'm just saying... it implies you are willing to eat… <em>any</em> kind of food, logically...."</p><p>And just like that, the smile is gone and Morty closes in on himself again, pulling away. Like hitting a switch, that happiness is gone.</p><p>“... I shouldn’t have done it... I should’ve died with him...”</p><p>Rick’s stomach drops. "H-hey, no, that's not— not what— hey, don't think about... whatever that was, I-I don't care. I mean, I-I <em>do </em>care, just, not in a... <em>fuck,</em> I'm sorry...." He pulls his hair. Why the fuck was he so bad at this?!</p><p>Morty watches him, studying him. Then he looks down. “I-it’s fine... really... just... I-I didn’t... want to... I’m not hungry anymore....”</p><p>Rick sighs heavily, pushing the box away. "Me neither... you, uh... you want to just... watch some TV...?"</p><p>Morty shrugs, resting his cheek against the arm of the couch. He's back to being the closed-off boy Rick met, the one that ignored the world. Rick sighs. Just when he thought he was getting through to him.... "Do I have a room?"</p><p>"Uh... you can stay in mine... I-I usually sleep out here anyway, so it's no big deal...." He trails off, picking at his fingernails. He can feel himself closing off as well. He sighs and forces himself to stand up, scooping up the poor Morty and taking him to the bedroom. Morty gasps as he's lifted and grips at the jumper the whole time. The bed is large, but lonely, and it's clear it hasn't been touched in a while. There aren't any windows in the room, so it's dark as dark could be this time of night. "... D-do you want me to stay...?"</p><p>"I-I… n.... p-please...?"</p><p>"Please stay, or please go...? I'm confused...."</p><p>Morty whines. He isn't sure. He wants both. "Please..."</p><p>Rick sighs, sitting on the bed with Morty in his arms. "I-I can't do anything if you won't tell me."</p><p>"S-stay."</p><p>Rick seems somewhat surprised by that answer, but doesn't bother arguing. He climbs further onto the bed, getting comfortable in the middle. This was better than the couch... he pulls the blanket over the two of them.</p><p>"Then I'm not going anywhere."</p><p>Morty looks around the room before he climbs onto Rick's torso, laying on top of him. All that Rick can see though are two glowing green eyes in the darkness. "You have fascinating eyes... how do they do that? Is it biological? Mechanical? Mutation? Radiation?"</p><p>Morty blinks. "One of those, yeah…."</p><p>"Which one...? Did you get bioluminescent jellyfish DNA injected into them? Or are they robotic implants? Please, I <em>need</em> to know the answer...."</p><p>Morty turns his head but looks at him out the corner of his eyes. It could be the angle, but they seem brighter. "Nuh-uh. Secret."</p><p>Rick pouts; it's clearly playful and he's not actually upset. "Please? You have so many secrets, can't I learn one a day or something?"</p><p>"Nuh-uh. My secret." Morty turns his head the other way; his eyes are <em>definitely</em> glowing more. His fingers tap at Rick's chest and the corner of his mouth— not that Rick can see— is turned up in a smile.</p><p>Rick groans. "You really won't tell me the secrets of your pretty little eyeballs?"</p><p>"You really think they're pretty?" Morty turns and looks at him directly now. There seems to be a small shimmering the lighter green his eyes get. It gives off the idea of a galaxy trapped inside his head.</p><p>"I-I... yeah...?" Rick stutters. He's never seen anything like this before... he leans in closer to observe them. Morty moves back a little, his eyes flicking back and forth as he tries to figure out where exactly to focus. This felt familiar in an odd way. He grips at Rick's jumper loosely. "U-uh... M-Morty...? I-it's fine if you don't wanna tell me, I just... y-you don't owe me anything, I was fooling around...."</p><p>Morty frowns and looks to the side. He… curse the thought, he felt a deep-seated, instinctive urge to <em>kiss</em> this borderline-stranger Rick. His eyes dull down again. "… R-radiation... from... wh-whatever planet we were stuck on...."</p><p>Rick blinks, but nods in response. He… tries not to want to ask for more details on that second part. "S-so... does it grant you night vision? How is it connected to your emotions?</p><p>"I-I don't know... i-it.. just happens.”</p><p>“This is... you are fascinating, kid."</p><p>“… Th... Th-thank you..."</p><p>"Your brain must be pretty amazing... do you— fuck, never mind, that's enough secrets for tonight...."</p><p>Morty grips his jumper. "N-no, keep talking to me...."</p><p>He seems torn, still. Wanting his attention, wanting him to go away. Wanting him close but wanting him so, so far. He's unsure of himself. He feels like a <em>traitor</em> and he hates it, so he has to distract himself. Anything will work. Rick bites his lip.</p><p>"... Do... are there other effects that the radiation had on you...? Y-you don't have to answer that, that's kind of a personal question—"</p><p>"Y-yeah,” Morty answers quickly, “it uh... m-made my blood turn pink. Like, really jelly-looking and pink... d-do you wanna see?" Morty leans up a little, probably too close to Rick's face. Rick's brow shoots straight up, eyes widening in... fear?</p><p>"I-I believe you, I believe you...! Y-you don't— don't gotta do that...." He forces out.</p><p>"It tastes like candy." Morty runs his finger down Rick's chest, over and over again. Rick involuntarily shivers, arms moving to push the kid off of him. He doesn’t like it. He ends up stopping himself before he can touch him, however.</p><p>"I-I... I don't need to see you... h-hurt yourself...."</p><p>"You wanted to know about my blood though?"</p><p>"I-I trust you're telling the truth, just... p-please, don't...." Rick's got a strange inflection to his voice. He sounds... afraid. Panicked. Like something bad is going to happen. And deep down, he knows that if he sees Morty draw blood— hell, even <em>thinking</em> about it makes his own skin itch.</p><p>Morty sighs, burying his face in Rick's neck. The body beneath him tenses up, but he doesn’t think anything of it. "I-I won't... ‘m sorry..."</p><p>Rick takes a few deep, shaky breaths. Every fiber of his being wants Morty to stop touching him, to shove him off of his chest and go back to sleeping on the couch. Instead, he lays stiff as a board, feeling paralyzed. "I-it's fine... just... just a <em>me thing</em>... don't— don't worry about it—”</p><p>"Tell me."</p><p>It's a gentle demand. Morty turns his head so his cheek is pressed against Rick's neck. Rick's chest jumps in a strange way as his breath catches in his throat. It's small and would have gone unnoticed if Morty didn't currently have his entire body weight pressed against him. It’s very easily misinterpreted as a positive reaction.</p><p>"I-I... I just... i-it makes me upset." The answer is vague and dismissive. He’s clearly pretty uncomfortable.</p><p>"… Okay." Morty moves away, climbing off Rick's chest and out of his jumper to lay beside him. He rolls on his back and looks up. It's not cold it's just... cautious.</p><p>"... S-sorry...." Rick bites his lip again. The spot starts to bleed from how much he's done it today. Suddenly, a hand reaches up and touches his face, a small finger prodding at the cut. It hurts.</p><p>"Shut up, why are you bleeding?" Morty suddenly snaps. Rick flinches. How did this kid know?</p><p>"I-I... I just bit it too hard, it's fine, leave it alone—"</p><p>"Shut up and stay still, I can't clean it if you're talking."</p><p>Rick’s jaw shuts with a click of his teeth. His obvious fear is lost on Morty. Morty sits up, using a clean part of his sleeve and his hand to try and get the blood off. The more he smells it, the more he <em>wants it</em>, and the sicker he feels. Rick flails uselessly in the dark, finally locating the tissue box. He holds a tissue over the spot, working up the balls to push Morty off of him.</p><p>"M-Morty, it's fine...! Look, it's covered, it's already clotting and swelling, you don't— don't need to touch me...."</p><p>Morty huffs and lays back down, turning away from Rick with a grumpy expression. Under the cover of darkness, he licks Rick's blood off his thumb. He grimaces at the familiar taste, the <em>specific</em> taste. It's welcoming yet disgusting at the same time. <em>He wants more. </em>Rick, meanwhile, runs his fingers through his hair. All he can hear is his heart hammering in his ears. God, he was just fucking up left and right tonight... he gets up.</p><p>"... I-I... I need to... t-to use the bathroom...." He says like a student with a mean teacher. Morty doesn't respond. He wants to stop him, not wanting to let him out of his sight, but... he's too caught up in his own issues. He pushes the hoodie’s sleeves up, fingers tracing the animal-like bitemarks. Rick stops halfway across the room. <em>God,</em> he feels like a piece of shit, being so hypocritical towards this Morty and then just leaving him to go hide in the bathroom and hurt himself for the rest of the night. This wouldn't be such a hard choice if it wasn't <em>Morty</em>.... "I-I... <em>fuck,</em> I'm sorry... I-I'm so sorry I'm so bad at this, I-I can't even <em>remember</em> the last time I had a real discussion with anybody else before... I-I'm trying, and I'm failing, s-so just... what should I do?"</p><p>Morty stops, turning to look at him. It wasn't his Rick, true, but... he was right, he was trying so hard. He reaches for him. "Come back..."</p><p>Rick twitches, just... standing there for a minute, before he actually comes back over, tripping a bit on the edge of the bed. He can't see much except for Morty's glowing eyes, but Morty can see all of Rick. He looks sad, afraid, like he's going to ruin this Morty too. He doesn't want that, but doesn't know how to prevent it besides removing himself from the picture. Morty grabs his sleeve and tugs, trying to make him lay back down. "Come on..."</p><p>Rick is still hesitant, but obeys him, climbing up onto the bed and laying down beside him. <em>He just can't say no to Morty.... </em></p><p>"You should do whatever you want." Morty says, moving closer. He presses his forehead against Rick's chest and gets comfortable against him one more time.</p><p>"B-but I keep messing up in all of these small ways... wh-what if I fuck up really bad? What do I do if I... if I end up h-hurting you too...?"</p><p>“T-then... then we'll talk about it.” Morty rubs circles into his side. His leg sneaks around Rick's until it's looped around his knee. He's beyond comfortable. Same can’t be said for Rick. “Because we're together now. I'll tell you if I don't like something. I'm... I-I'm not him... I'll be okay."</p><p>"... I-I just... o-okay....” Rick remains tense as a plank of wood, but nods anyway. There are about a hundred thoughts running through his head right now, and not a single one can agree with each other. “J-just don't— don't go crawling out any windows again...."</p><p>"Long as you don't go sneaking off without me." Morty's hand slides up to Rick's chest and looks up at him sweetly. Out of this whole bed, he chooses to stay with Rick. Out of the whole flat, he chooses to be here. He smiles softly. He's not going anywhere. It’s hard to tell if that’s a good thing. Rick squeezes his eyes shut. That touch... that kind, gentle touch, it was <em>so much</em> like his Morty's. Back before everything went sideways. His anxiety manifests in the same way that could be misconstrued as excitement.</p><p>"I-I won't."</p><p>Morty leans up and gives Rick's chin and little nuzzle with his forehead. He wants to kiss him, but stops himself. It's too soon. He has to keep reminding himself that this isn't Rick— not <em>his </em>Rick. This is a new Rick. Things are different.</p><p>"Relax a little." He says.</p><p>Rick takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. It doesn't have to happen again, because he can just say no. He can <em>always</em> say no. But, if he were to say no, if anything were to <em>happen</em> between them, he can't guarantee the kid wouldn't just throw himself out the window. He can't let that happen again. But, if it makes this kid happy... well, history would be doomed to repeat itself.</p><p>"... Y-you're... you seem different sometimes...."</p><p>Morty lets him go, sliding away. “I... feel comfortable... I-I can... stop...”</p><p>"N-no, I— <em>fuck,</em> it was supposed to be a compliment... don't go...."</p><p>
  <em>Don't leave because of me.</em>
</p><p>Morty looks up at him. “You want me to touch you...?”</p><p>Rick's eyes go wide. Fuck. Say no. <em>Say no,</em> you fucking spineless coward, stop treating him like a child...! Well, he is a child, b-but the point is he can take it! <em>Stop letting Mortys take advantage of you and SAY NO—!</em></p><p>"... Y-yeah...."</p><p>Morty moves closer and carefully puts his hand on Rick’s chest. He slides it over his torso to hug him, nuzzling into his chest softly. His fluffy hair bushes against Rick’s chin and it’s so easy to melt into his warmth. Rick blinks a few times, trying to pull himself together. Oh... this... this is fine... there’s no judgement here. Just patience and understanding. It’s been a long time since anyone’s cared about him. He understands. He slowly returns the hug.</p><p>"... Th-thank you."</p><p>“Why are you so scared...?”</p><p>Rick allows his eyes to close. "Just... i-it's scary, you know...? Trusting someone again... letting yourself get... <em>attached</em>...."</p><p>“I-I know... better than anyone....” Morty shifts to look up at him with those big, beautiful green eyes. They’re absolutely sparkling. “Thank you too.”</p><p>Rick peeks an eye open, daring to give him a little smile. This is how it started last time. "Tomorrow, we'll have... h-have a mini adventure... m-might not even leave the apartment, maybe... maybe we'll see what kind of radiation you've been exposed to, I don't know... something simple, baby steps...."</p><p>“B-baby steps... a-are we gonna... leave this stupid city one day...?” Morty smiles back. It’s so genuine and sweet.</p><p>"... I... I don't know... I-I don't exactly have a home dimension I'm welcome in anymore... and I'm not sure I'm ready for such a big change...."</p><p>Morty hums in response. He turns a little and wraps his other arm around Rick, making sure he doesn’t go anywhere. “Are we gonna sleep now...?”</p><p>"... Are you...?"</p><p>“Only if you do too.”</p><p>Rick shifts so that he's a little bit more comfortable. "Sleep sounds nice...."</p><p>Morty leans his head against Ricks chest. He rolls over, his back pressed against Rick so he’s being spooned. He plays with Ricks hand, his movements getting slower and slower as he starts falling asleep. It’s a big step. Falling asleep willing around a Rick. It’s a massive step for him. For the first time in.... well, since he came to the Citadel… he’s happy.</p><p>“Goodnight, Rick...” He yawns.</p><p>The change in position starts to internally freak Rick out, but the best tells himself he just needs to calm down. This is fine. This is... this is normal. It's just been a long time is all. He can't believe how much he's missed Morty... this was normal and wouldn't lead to anything... right...?</p><p>"G-goodnight… Morty...."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Calm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Morty won't take care of himself, so Rick has to for him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings for this chapter:</p>
<p>-Self harm<br/>-Eating disorder<br/>-Purposefully triggering yourself<br/>-Attempted cannibalism<br/>-Mentioned rape</p>
<p>Please do not read if this content makes you feel unsafe.</p>
<p>(With that said, this chapter still ends up being the kind of fluffy low-key attempted-domestic shit I usually skip in fic, so I won't blame you if you skip it anyway. The storm picks up next chapter.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rick is easily awoken around 2 AM by movement, already a light sleeper by default. Morty starts making pathetic little sounds, twitching and grasping Rick in his sleep desperately. He groans, pulling Morty closer, completely forgetting about the kind of position they're in. "Shh... go back to sleep...." He mutters. Morty whines, clinging tightly to Rick’s arms. He mutters Rick’s name over and over, shaking. He’s having a nightmare. Rick grunts in pain, more fully awake now. He sits up, trying to pull himself from Morty's grip. The kid's strong fingers dig into three-day-old scabs, and it <em>hurts</em> as a few are pulled open. "M-Morty— Morty, stop, that fucking hurts—!"</p>
<p>Morty wakes up, screaming for his Rick. He crawls to the end of the bed like an animal and collapses, falling off the bed. He mutters apologies as tears stream down his face. It’s like he’s looking for something, but from how glazed over his eyes are, he’s not really <em>seeing </em>anything right now. Rick cradles his arm— it's definitely bleeding again— and fumbles around for his phone, turning on the flash so the room is lit up weakly.</p>
<p>"M-Morty, fuck, a-are you okay?!" He crawls to the edge of the bed as best he can.</p>
<p>Morty blinks in the light, pupils constricting as he comes around to his senses. He rubs his eyes and looks around, shaking violently. “R-R... Rick...? W-what’s... where... a-are you bleeding...? D-Did I do it...?”</p>
<p>Rick's eyes widen, and he turns partially away. It wasn't visible through both the layers he was wearing, how the hell could he know?? "N-no, no, it— it was from a few days ago, y-you're fine...!” He insists.</p>
<p>Morty stumbles over, climbing onto the bed and almost falling off. Rick takes his hands to help him climb up, but it turns out to be a trap as Morty forcibly yanks up his sleeve to see the wound. He jerks away, but Morty's already seen the damage— very obvious self-inflicted cuts run all the way down Rick's left wrist. A few have had their scabs pulled open in the struggle, beads of blood forming on the skin. Rick tears up, pulling the sleeve back down and holding it protectively against his chest. "M-Morty, I-I can explain—"</p>
<p>Morty doesn’t let him, grabbing it and taking it back. He pulls up Ricks sleeve again and carefully wipes the blood away. When it comes back, he just... <em>licks</em> it. Rick tries to pull away again, but his pitiful body is no match for Morty's fit nature. "L-let me go, wh— what the fuck are you doing? Ow, that stings...!" Morty growls at him, taking another long lick at the cuts. The bloods gone, but... <em>he wants more. </em>He puts his mouth over the cut and suckles it, trying to get every last drop of blood he can. He’s not too rough, but it’s very... animalistic. It’s likely he’s not even thinking. Rick grits his teeth, this whole fuckery going on right here quickly going from uncomfortable to <em>painful, </em>starting to lose feeling in his fingers<em>.</em> He tries to pull away again, Morty's suction starting to leave a bruise. "M-Morty, cut it out, that <em>hurts</em>...!"</p>
<p>He finally pulls away slowly. Blood is smeared his lips. He blinks, looking at Rick, then the cuts. “O-oh fuck... R-Rick, I’m so fucking sorry....” His eyes widen as he realizes what he’s done, letting Rick go and covering his mouth in horror.</p>
<p>"J-Jesus, could suck the nipple off of your mother...” Rick wrings his numb hand out, pulling the sleeve back down for (hopefully) the last time. “Wh-what the hell was that all about?!"</p>
<p>Morty shakes his head and covers his face, pulling at his hair to help hide himself. He apologizes over and over, shaking and crying softly. “P-please don’t be m-mad... I-I’m sorry, s-so sorry...”</p>
<p>Rick watches Morty retreat inwards on himself, and tries to act like his arm isn't bothering him more than it is. He sighs, leaning against the headboard with a defeated look. "F-fuck, Morty, it's— it's fine, you just scared the hell out of me... I'm not mad, just fucking breathe...."</p>
<p>Morty obeys, taking deep breaths to even himself out. He eventually calms down and looks up, his eyes black as black can be. He looks miserable, tears streaming down his face. “W... where do I get th-the bandaids...?” His eyes fall on Ricks arm. Coming to for the first time since he woke up, his attention and worry is focused on Rick. Rick shakes his head, pulling Morty close with his right arm. Morty tenses, but almost immediately melts against him.</p>
<p>"H-hey, don't worry about it, it'll be fine. It'll heal the same, bandaid or not, so there's no point. Are you okay? What the hell happened?"</p>
<p>“Y-yeah... nightmare, I’m fine...” He takes Rick’s arms and feels underneath, avoiding the open cut. <em>He’s searching for more.</em> Rick grits his teeth. He won't let Morty know how weak he is. How weak he is for Mortys.</p>
<p>"Alright, clearly you're hungry. Let's get you some real food, maybe that'll make you less—" He gestures wildly to Morty. "— Whatever the fuck that was."</p>
<p>Morty crawls to the top of the bed, shaking so bad he stumbles. “N-no... I-I’m fine, just... let’s go back to sleep...” He crawls under the blankets and lays in his side, being a very good boy. He just wants to move on.</p>
<p>Rick watches him pitifully. He gets up, leaving the room quickly before returning with a slice of pizza. He sits next to Morty, trying to get him to look at him. Morty looks up at him, then at the pizza. He sees the sauce and immediately pales. He pulls the blanket over his head. Rick sighs.</p>
<p>"Come on, who doesn't like pizza?"</p>
<p>“P-please, Rick... just... c-come back to bed, please... I-I need you, not food...”</p>
<p>Rick him into his lap. "You can have both. Come on, little buddy, your body clearly needs food."</p>
<p>Morty groans. He leans against Rick and plays with his jumper. “N-nothing red... please...”</p>
<p>Rick looks down at the pizza, vaguely understanding Morty's distress. He thinks for a second, then starts to eat the pizza himself, offering Morty the bare crust when he's finished. "Better? There's still a little cheese on there."</p>
<p>Morty nibbles at the crust as if he’s trying to save it for later. He’s so tiny, he looks so frail right now. His hair covers most of his face and he’s shaking a little but he looks better. Rick waits patiently until he finishes eating, then gets up and grabs a brush from the bathroom. He sits down next to Morty, pulling him close so he can attempt to tame that hair that's just as wild as the rest of him.</p>
<p>"H-here, hold— hold still—"</p>
<p>Morty eyes the brush almost suspiciously. He knows what’s about to happen, and he does <em>not </em>look happy. He growls, holding Ricks wrist. Rick flinches at the contact. It doesn’t hurt, though, and the growl isn’t a very threatening one. It’s empty. “Uh-uh.”</p>
<p>"Calm down, I'm just gonna fix your hair, it's a fucking disaster...."</p>
<p>Morty lets him go only to scoot away from him, crossing his arms in a pout. It’s almost kind of cute. “Uh-uh. No.”</p>
<p>"Come on, it's not gonna hurt. Come here and let me brush your damn mane."</p>
<p>“No...!” Morty covers his head with his arms. It does nothing to protect his very fluffy hair but he’s doing it anyway. He pouts even more. Rick groans, leaning against the headboard of the bed.</p>
<p>"Fine, whatever... it's not worth all the effort chasing you anyway...."</p>
<p>Morty looks up at him and huffs unhappily. Still, he thinks. “... Y-you won’t cut it... right...?”</p>
<p>Rick frowns. "What? No. If I wanted to do that, I'd have grabbed some scissors, or— or a knife, or— something like that."</p>
<p>Morty hesitates. Just when Rick thinks this conversation is over, Morty climbs into his lap, facing away. “Okay.” He taps his feet together patiently, waiting for his hair to be brushed. Rick seems surprised by this very sudden change of heart, but doesn't complain. He combs it first with his fingers, getting caught in all kinds of tangles.</p>
<p>"Jesus, Morty, when's the last time you washed this...?" Yeah, he's one to talk.</p>
<p>Morty plays with Ricks pant leg, finding a loose string and twisting it around his finger. “It’s... been a while... “ Rick stares down at the back of his head, then lets out a long sigh.</p>
<p>"... I think we both need a bath, little buddy...."</p>
<p>“Nooo...”</p>
<p>It's too late, though, Rick is already standing up with Morty in his arms. "Yes, otherwise I'm gonna be ripping out chunks of hair without some conditioner in there to lube it up.” Morty whines, arms around Rick’s neck. “That’s not a euphemism.”</p>
<p>“Fine...”</p>
<p>Rick turns on the bathroom light with his elbow, flinching at how bright the light is. He carries Morty over to the bathtub and sits him inside.</p>
<p>"You can wear as many or as little articles of clothing you want, I don't care..." He says, looking away to the side with a very poorly concealed embarrassment on his face.</p>
<p>“But... I won’t be clean if I don’t right...?”</p>
<p>Rick sits on the lid of the toilet. "I-I just don't want you to feel like, you know, I-I want to see your dick or anything— I don’t— don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable."</p>
<p>“... Are you going to do it with me...?”</p>
<p>"I-I'm not going to do it at the same time...! Sheesh, Morty, I-I'm just trying to take care of you since you're now, legally, my Morty. Until they find out I cheated them at least, but let's not worry about that…!"</p>
<p>Morty looks at himself across the way in the mirror, taking off his jacket and shirt. He stands up and wiggles out of his shorts in a very attractive way. Rick grimaces— it's definitely not the intended result. He looks away again, clearly uncomfortable.</p>
<p>"You got a camera in your pocket? Who are you doing that for?" He tries to joke, but it falls flat. Morty blinks, looking up at him as if he didn’t even mean to do it. He takes off his socks next, pausing at his underwear.</p>
<p>“I-I can put it back on...?”</p>
<p>Rick glances over for just a second, trying to respect his privacy. This time his eyes just fully close. He’s hoping the kid keeps them on. "You can do whatever you want. I don't even care if you want to wear them in the bath, I'm not going to touch you either way...."</p>
<p>Morty sits and wiggles out of his boxers so Rick doesn’t have to look away for as long. He rests his chin on the tub, looking up at him rather sweetly. This almost… feels like home.</p>
<p>“Okay, done....”</p>
<p>Rick spots them on the ground, and keeps his gaze to the side as he turns the hot water on. "Let me know if it's— it's too hot..." Before it gets too high, he pours some bubble soap under the faucet, foaming up quickly and concealing Morty’s body. They smell like bubble gum. Morty absolutely melts in the water. Not literally, of course. It’s been so long since he’s had a nice hot bath, even longer for a bubble bath, he almost forgot how nice it is. He practically purrs.</p>
<p>“It’s perfect... th-thanks...!”</p>
<p>Rick shuts the water off at the right height, sitting on the floor in front of the tub. He takes an old plastic cup, pouring some water over Morty's head to saturate his hair before he uses the shampoo. That wild hair flattens under the pressure of the water, covering his face almost entirely. He groans, moving it out his face.  "You're taking one after me, ri—" He gets a bubble in his mouth and makes a disgusted face. Rick snorts, trying his best not to laugh. He pours some shampoo onto Morty's soaked head.</p>
<p>"Soap tastes bad, kid. Keep your mouth and eyes closed."</p>
<p>Morty readjusts so he’s sitting with his legs crossed. He looks up at Rick with only one, big, green eye visible. "Y-you didn't answer my question..."</p>
<p>"After you go to bed. I don't need child supervision.” Rick rolls his eyes, starting to apply the shampoo with his hands. Rick's hands are unsteady, not just out of practice, but unsure of how to deal with hair longer than his own. Morty leans into his touch, closing his eyes. He's like putty right now. He lets out a little sound. Rick smiles, but... it's different than the kind you'd find on any other Rick. It's not the snarky know-it-all look they give when they win an argument, and it's not the predatory gaze they give the (sometimes literal) object of their erections; it's the smile of a man who cares about his grandson whole-heartedly and unconditionally.</p>
<p>God, how he missed having a Morty...</p>
<p>Morty notices Rick lost in thought. He gets a mischievous smile and scoops up some bubbles, putting them in Rick's hair with a gentle pat. Bubbles get all over him and Morty laughs. It's a sweet, open, pure laugh, a genuine laugh. It's wonderful. Rick smiles and chuckles a bit, enjoying this little Morty's pure laugh. "Very funny. You just don't want to suffer alone."</p>
<p>Morty smiles widely, and it's the happiest smile he's felt himself do in a long, long time.  "Gotta come get me, Gran'pa Rick!" He slides back in the tub, making Rick reach for him. He clearly wants Rick to join him. Rick rolls his eyes. He only <em>very </em>briefly considers it.</p>
<p>"Cute, but I'm not doing that. The soap bubbles are just gonna fuck up my arm."</p>
<p>"You gotta take a bath at some point!" Morty moves again, this time gently tugging Rick's sleeve. "We'll suffer together!"</p>
<p>Rick's smile starts to disappear. "N-no, really, it's literally gonna hurt. I'll just take a quick shower when you're done, it's no big deal."</p>
<p>"... Where I hurt you, right...?" Morty's fingers trail down to where the cut is. He strokes over it, frowning deeply. He feels guilty.</p>
<p>Rick pulls his arm away. "Y-you didn't— fuck, you didn't hurt me, Morty, I... I hurt myself. Just— just let it go, okay? I really don't want to talk about it."</p>
<p>Morty drops his hands, sinking into the tub. He looks at the cuts on his chest, the deep scars. Bitemarks in certain areas of his arms. "I-I get it..."</p>
<p>Rick's eyes wander down to them, and he wants to ask. But... there's been enough pain this morning. "... Thanks."</p>
<p>There's silence, Morty tapping his knees. He moves back towards Rick and lets him continue. "... You will take a bath, right...?"</p>
<p>Rick reaches back out, using the cup again to rinse out Morty's hair. "I'll take a <em>shower,</em> yes. You can stand outside the door and listen if that helps."</p>
<p>"... W-what are you gonna do now that the Mortys are graduated and we get a break...?"</p>
<p>Rick is quiet, taking a half-full bottle of conditioner and pouring some of the lotion-like stuff in Morty’s hair. "I don't know... I... I haven't had this job a full year. I guess I just... thought that I... I-I'd do it right...." He trails off.</p>
<p>"You did a good job. Th-thank you for protecting me... that one time..." He looks up at Rick with a slight smile.</p>
<p>Rick nods, starting to massage it into his hair again. "It's no big deal. I was the problem; he shouldn't have tried to push you." It does not bubble, but it starts to make his hair feel smooth. Morty doesn’t end up liking the silky feeling. He prefers the straight bubbles from the shampoo. Still, it's enjoyable. Only because of Rick, anyway.</p>
<p>"You weren't. He shouldn't have been such a jackass. Ricks are the worst..."</p>
<p>"I know, right...? I hate that I had to be one of those pricks." Rick rinses out his hair again, and this time, he's able to run his fingers through it without catching on knots. The conditioner is washed away, and he's left with soft, clean hair. Rick seems happy with the outcome. Morty leans against the tub, his hand reaching up to grasp Rick's wrist. He likes touching him. The conditioning made his hair much shinier and the red is a little more faded than before. It's been a while since Morty even bathed, it seems.</p>
<p>"I think you make a nice Rick..."</p>
<p>Rick gives him a soft smile before he goes over to the small closet in the bathroom. "Thanks... I... I try... well, uh, the soap is in the corner there, I'll get you a wash cloth..." Morty doesn't really wanna let him go, but he does. He picks up the soap and rubs it on his palm. It smells like Rick. He likes it. "I'll, uh... leave the room, if you need me to."</p>
<p>"N-no, you're okay... unless you want to leave."</p>
<p>Rick has a very intense look of consideration on his face. He decides to stay, sitting on the toilet and looking away. The tub has a curtain rod, but his old shower curtain started growing mold two months ago and he hadn’t bothered replacing it. There was hardly a point. "I don't <em>want </em>to; I just don't want to make you uncomfortable... don't wanna... make <em>me </em>uncomfortable...."</p>
<p>"Don't make yourself uncomfortable then." Morty starts cleaning himself off. Turns out, he's a lot lighter than originally thought. He's actually a little pale. He just... hadn't bothered to clean himself in a while. Rick taps his thumbs together as he waits.</p>
<p>"I'm not, I'm not... not... a lot...."</p>
<p>Morty stops and looks up at him. "You don't have to make yourself uncomfortable for me, Rick. I'll be okay."</p>
<p>"I-I'm fine...! I just...." Rick goes quiet after that, trying to understand his own feelings. There are so many that it's hard to listen to just one. "... I-I don't want you or anybody to think I'm taking advantage of you, b-because I'm not like that. I just hope... hope that you don't do that to me either...”</p>
<p>Morty starts to realize what's going on in his head. He rinses himself off then turns to Rick. giving him a very sad smile.</p>
<p>"My Rick and I... it was my idea but... he liked it. He loved me too. I want you to stop me from making you uncomfortable, okay? Because I know you’re... <em>we're</em> different. Telling me 'no' isn't going to break me, I promise."</p>
<p>Rick dares himself to look over at Morty like this. He stares, like he's trying to really understand the brain underneath all that hair. "... You mean that...? That... that makes me... feel very happy..."</p>
<p>"I'm not a <em>total</em> pervert, Rick.... and I don't feel that way about you." <em>Not yet. </em>Morty mentally kicks himself. He looks away. Oh, what is he getting himself into?</p>
<p>Rick bites his lip at the first comment, but... otherwise, the affirmation, even if false, is calming to him. He smiles a little bit. "If... if that changes, you'll just tell me right away and we'll talk it out, okay...? No— no more secrets, from now on. Between us."</p>
<p>Morty looks away. He knows for a fact it will. He's going to develop a crush, he knows. This Rick was so much like his own, just lacking the confidence. It was hard not to have a tiny crush on him. "It won't... C-can I get out now? I wanna watch TV."</p>
<p>Rick nods, going back to the closet and handing Morty a towel. It's got a small brown blood stain on one side, but Rick doesn't notice, turning towards the door and closing his eyes. Morty pulls the plug on the tub and stands up. Right as he's about to dry off, he stops. He sees the bloodstain. He knows exactly what it is, he's seen blood before. Many, many times.</p>
<p>"H-hey... R-Rick...?"</p>
<p>"Yeah?” He doesn't turn around, not wanting to see something he won't like.</p>
<p>Morty sits back down, hiding himself in the tub. He looks at the bloodstain like he's inspecting it. "T-there's... there's blood. On the towel."</p>
<p>Rick curses under his breath, pulling the closet back open. "Shit, I-I'm sorry, let me— let me get you a new one... i-it's mine, if that's what you’re wondering, he... h-he never lived here, he stayed on Earth...."</p>
<p>Morty rubs his thumb over the bloodstain, trying to see how old it is exactly. The little towel fibers retain the stain, but nothing dried flakes off, which means it's seen the wash at least once since then.</p>
<p>"I'm not worried about that..."</p>
<p>Rick freezes. "... I-I... I know, kid... I did it, I always do it, i-it's really no big fuckin' deal..."</p>
<p>Morty wraps the towel around himself, covering himself up. He steps out of the tub and walks over to Rick. His wet feet slap against the floor as he approaches. His arms wrap around Rick's torso from behind, getting him wet. Rick flinches, staying tense.</p>
<p>"... W-we have to stop..."</p>
<p>"... I'm not gonna make you talk about it, Morty... but, d-don't feel like it'll upset me if you do, okay?" Rick offers. It's a lie. It absolutely will trigger him. But... god, he cares about this kid too much. Morty moves his hand to intertwine their fingers. He nuzzles into Rick's back, getting his back wet too.</p>
<p>"... I don't want to talk about it... I want us to stop... yours is... it's fresh... I opened it..."</p>
<p>"You weren't even conscious, you can't blame yourself for that, Morty. S-so... fucking stop that shit, alright?"</p>
<p>Morty steps back, letting him go. "I know. Just.... Let's stop... t-talking about it... What do I have to wear...?" He looks at his dirty clothes.</p>
<p>Rick scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well... uh... you can... borrow some of my stuff for the night— morning— whatever— and we'll go to the Morty Mall tomorrow— today? — fuck it. You know what I mean. Wear my shit. We’ll get more later."</p>
<p>"Get clean. I'll take care of myself until you're done..."</p>
<p>Rick hesitates, that overprotective nature returning. "You'll be okay, right? You can... y-you can stay, if you don't want to be by yourself..." He kicks himself. That's exactly the kind of attitude that allowed things to escalate before.</p>
<p>Morty gives him a reassuring smile, stepping away and heading towards the door. "I-I'll be fine. Promise."</p>
<p>That was the difference in him and M-113 Morty. They were both sweet, caring, kind-hearted when given the chance, but... this Morty is wild and independent. He doesn't need a Rick. He just wants him around. And Rick seems okay with that. He's finished fifteen minutes later, out of the bathroom in thirty. He looks... noticeably a bit better. His hair has a slight shine to it that isn't attributed to the water, and he... kind of looks a bit younger, with less dirt stuck in his wrinkles. He immediately goes for a dresser drawer, digging out some sweatpants and a comfortable shirt. He pulls on a zipper-less hoodie in place of his missing jumper.</p>
<p>There is the sound of something falling in the other room, though. Rick internally starts to panic, leaving the bedroom as soon as he realizes Morty isn't there.</p>
<p>"M-Morty?!"</p>
<p>He stops in the doorway to the kitchen. Morty looks up from what he's doing, startled by Rick's reaction. He's gotten a trash bag, throwing away empty soda cans, boxes, wrappers and discarded papers. The room looks noticeably cleaner than when they left it the night before. His hair is starting to curl back up as it's dried. He's wearing only a pair of Rick's boxers and a shirt than goes down to his knees. It's one of Rick's older ones from the back of the drawer, he actually hasn’t seen it in quite a while. That terrifying scar is peeking out from the neck of his shirt and more of his arms are revealed than either of them are used to.</p>
<p>"W-what?" Morty asks, looking around like there’s something wrong.</p>
<p>Rick stutters, but can't get a feasible sentence out. What... why was he doing this...? Why did Morty choose to do this? That's... that's legitimately the nicest thing anybody's done for him in a long time.</p>
<p>"... Y-you... you don't h-have to do this..." He eventually comes up with.</p>
<p>Morty stubbornly turns away, continuing to pile garbage into the bag he's carrying with him. "You're living in a mess. It needs to be cleaned, Rick." With every item he picks up, he makes sure it's actually something that’s been discarded before trashing it and he straightens up things as he goes. Rick feels bad just watching, so he enters, trying to help a little bit. He moves the leftover pizza to the fairly empty fridge, frowning as it starts to dawn on him how horribly alone he's been. Before long, the living room is decently tidied up. Some things are out of place and there's stuff still stuck in the carpet but... mostly clean.</p>
<p>"M-Morty... I... th-thanks." Rick stutters.</p>
<p>"You're welcome." Morty smiles, walking towards him and looking him over. He seems satisfied by how clean Rick is, grasping at Rick's sleeve. He missed companionship too.</p>
<p>"I guess going back to sleep isn't a very feasible option... what do you want to do until the shop opens...?"</p>
<p>Morty looks at him almost hopefully. "It's... been a while since I've seen anything on TV... o-or played a game..." It's weird how he can flip between feral and ruthless to almost innocent and pure.</p>
<p>Rick starts walking towards the couch, letting Morty hold onto his sleeve as they change locations. Morty follows obediently, sliding his hand down to take Rick's instead of the sleeve.</p>
<p>"Board game or video game?"</p>
<p>"Uh... both...? Y-you pick."</p>
<p>Rick pulls a bin out from under the coffee table, filled with several years’ worth of Xbox games. "Take your pick. I don't care if you wanna do a one-player, I'm happy watching."</p>
<p>Morty goes through the games carefully and happily. He pauses at one, something bloody and uncensored. He almost picks it, but moves along. Then he picks something, holding it out to Rick. Halo. He smiles at him.</p>
<p>"W-we'll take turns."</p>
<p>Rick takes the Xbox 360 case and cracking it open. “Ah, a classic. I can appreciate a Morty with respect for the oldies, and I’m not just talking about their grandparents."</p>
<p>Morty gets up and goes to the kitchen again while Rick sets up the console, rummaging around until he finds... whatever he's looking for. He comes back with two cans of soda, sitting on the couch immediately next to Rick. He smiles more when he sees what he returns with.</p>
<p>"Alright, now it's a party...! Are you ready for some fun, Morty?"</p>
<p>Morty laughs and nods, putting his soda on the table before handing Rick his. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I just got two of these.”</p>
<p>“… Morty, it’s <em>my </em>fridge. I bought everything in it.”</p>
<p>Morty laughs, scratching his cheek nervously as he looks away in embarrassment. “Ha ha, right… well y-you can go first. When you die, I'll go."</p>
<p>Rick rolls his eyes, starting up a new game file. "Oh yeah? You better hope I'm not good at the game then...!"</p>
<p>Morty's grin widens. "If you're good, I'll just mess you up so I can play!" He's not above playing dirty, imagining crawling all over Rick just to distract him. Rick rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>"Yeah, right! Hope that seat's comfy, 'cuz your ass is gonna be married to it...!"</p>
<p>Morty puts his hand on Rick's leg, leaning forward. "Well we're getting a divorce a-and I'll... I-I'll marry your controller instead…!" He never claimed to be the best at sass. The game starts up and he watches Rick play, getting bored after maybe 30-ish minutes. Rick knows this, and decides to throw the game.</p>
<p>"Oh— oh, fuck, man, I died... quick, here's the controller, you respawn in a few— oh, shit, we're back! Onwards, Morty...!"</p>
<p>Morty perks up. "You <em>so</em> did that on purpose."</p>
<p>"I have no idea what you're talking about, that motherfucker totally took me by surprise!" Rick says with a smirk.</p>
<p>In the end, he ends up watching Morty more than the actual game. He's completely forgotten what it was like to have fun like this, and allows himself to just enjoy Morty's presence here with him. Morty gives the inanimate game sass every now and then, but he has fun. He's got a constant smile, leaning forward a lot when he's focused. Over time, his hair curls and fluffs up even more than when it was dirty and tangled. He's warm and soft and pressed against Rick’s side like his life depends on it. Rick lets him play for a while, and eventually the sun starts to come up, thin gold lines shining through the slats in the blind.</p>
<p>"Already...? It doesn't feel like it's been that long... usually it takes an eternity for time to pass..." Rick groans.</p>
<p>Morty pauses the game and rubs his eyes, looking at the window. "I don't want to go to the store with all the other ricks and Mortys around..." He huffs, nuzzling against Rick’s side. If he notices, he tries to ignore it.</p>
<p>"I really don't want to either... maybe you should just... just wear that for now, and we'll go right before they close, when they're not busy, yeah...?"</p>
<p>Morty nods, liking that response. He doesn't go back to the game, but he does get more comfortable against Rick’s side, basically burrowing under his arm, looking up at him with big green eyes and his little hands hiding his mouth. Rick makes a strange face. That's the only way it can be described. Borderline uncomfortable, but also kind of flattered.</p>
<p>"I like it here." Morty finally decides.</p>
<p>"Y-yeah, it's... it's a nice little apartment, I think, not a lot of noise, great view...."</p>
<p>Morty sits up a bit more. "I-I like you... thank you so much for taking care of me." He nuzzles against Rick's cheek, smiling softly. His lips graze against Rick's cheeks as he nuzzles. It's an accident but he wants to do it for real. He doesn't know why. Before Rick can even respond, Morty's off of him and back to the game, playing right next to him like it never happened. But it did, and they both felt the intention behind it. Rick is left pressed against the back of the couch, clearly a bit overwhelmed by... whatever the fuck just happened. His ears are burning red but his face is pale, rubbing his cheek with the sleeve of his hoodie.</p>
<p>"N-no problem...." He squeaks out.</p>
<p>Morty blinks and looks up at him, realizing what he did. He pauses the game and drops the controller in his lap, looking at his fingers. He pulls at his hair a little.</p>
<p>"S-sorry... I didn't mean to... I-I won't do it again."</p>
<p>Rick snaps out of it, reaching for him but stopping himself. "H-hey, don't— don't do that, just— just, let's talk, talk about it—"</p>
<p>Morty moves the controller and hugs his knees. “I-I... meant to just... n-nuzzle you, not... not... all that...” He’s gotten a little further away. He’s closing up again.</p>
<p>"H-hey, it's okay…” Rick sighs, relaxing and reaching out to touch his shoulder. “I... I can understand... if you— if you want to cuddle... w-we can do that. You just had to ask, is all..."</p>
<p>“C-can we...?”</p>
<p>Rick nods, leaning back and inviting Morty to join him, despite every voice in his head telling him this was a bad idea, that he was falling into this trap again. But his body... his body didn't care. He just didn't want to feel alone. Morty quickly crawls into his lap, nuzzling into his neck, his arms wrapping around Rick’s torso like a koala. It takes Rick a little longer to warm up to this, but oh, how he had missed the familiar warmth over the past year, even if it did come from a place of sheer Stockholm for a dead kid. Morty reaches up and starts playing in his hair, little fingers sliding through blue locks. It’s sweet and gentle. Morty tries to keep him relaxed.</p>
<p>“I-I’m staying...”</p>
<p>Rick takes a deep breath, smiling as he lets it out through his nose. He keeps his eyes open though, because if he closes them, he won't see B-375. "Th-thanks... I... I plan on staying too, I guess...."</p>
<p>“A-and I’ll... I’ll do everything I can for you.” Morty smiles. He really means those words. He’s changed an insane amount in the past day or so. Or, perhaps this sweet side is just a side of him nobody bothers to encounter. Either way, one this is certain;</p>
<p>
  <em>He’s starting to love Rick.</em>
</p>
<p>Rick smiles gently down at him in return, reaching up to ruffle Morty's hair playfully. Morty leans into his touch. "You're too kind... leave me something to do, okay?"</p>
<p>“Ha, I’ll be enough work for you.”</p>
<p>"Y-you think so? This is just day one, who knows what else is in store for us?" Rick lets out a small laugh. It's nervous, but not uncomfortable anymore.</p>
<p>“Y-yeah... who knows....” Morty gently strokes his chest. It’s light and can barely be felt but it’s there. Rick clears his throat, starting to make it into uncomfortable territory, but finds himself too hesitant to ask him to stop.</p>
<p>"U-uh... do you want some breakfast? I don't usually, but I think you need some fuckin' protein in you...."</p>
<p>Morty looks up at him with a stern face. “No more pizza.”</p>
<p>Rick snorts, the snarky jab completely catching him off guard. "What are we supposed to eat then? All I have is— are pizza, and pizza-related deconstructions. You— you want some mozzarella sticks? Could eat them without the sauce. They'll be dry motherfuckers, and not really have much protein value to them, but it's better than nothing."</p>
<p>“That’s not protein! It’s junk food!”</p>
<p>Rick flinches a little when Morty raises his voice. He tries to act like it didn't happen. It breaks Morty’s heart.</p>
<p>"O-okay... we, uh, we could go to a, uh... a diner somewhere... if you want."</p>
<p>Now Morty feels like shit. He forgot this Rick is… not his Rick. “N-no, pizza’s fine.”</p>
<p>Rick sighs deeply. "Y-you said you can't eat like that, so— f-fucking, alright, mozzarella sticks it is. Been a while since I've made them either, honestly, they might be a bit freezer-burned."</p>
<p>“I don’t want to bother you...”</p>
<p>Rick pucks him up, heading back to the kitchen with a worried look on his face. He sits Morty down on one of the stools at the little island bar.</p>
<p>"You're not a bother, Morty, I... I chose this." Fuck, he keeps doing this to himself. “… I chose you.” He mutters, digging around through the freezer until he’s got about half his body in it. "Maybe I... fuck, no, that's out of date... oh— oh! Yes! Score!" He pulls out a mostly empty bag of frozen chicken tenders, happy to redirect the conversation. "How about some nice, crispy tendies for my new Morty? Not red, not gooey, all natural, farm-range fucking chicken!"</p>
<p>“T-that’ll be perfect. I love meat.” Morty laughs a bit. Rick grins, seeming more proud of himself for saving this mean than he should. He sets up the toaster oven and pops a few of those bad boys in, setting the timer for seventeen minutes.</p>
<p>"You, uh, you want anything for 'em? M-most people use ketchup, uh, but that's off the table, so... I don't know, you want mustard? I can't imagine why the fuck anybody would put mustard on tendies, but if they'll put ranch on a pizza, there is no god."</p>
<p>“H-hey, ranch on pizza is fucking amazing!”</p>
<p>Rick makes a face of utter disgust and betrayal. "Y-you fucking kidding me? <em>"Hi, I’d like to order a slice of pizza that looks like a horse jizzed all over it. What's that? Yeah, I'll hold."</em> Fucking why??"</p>
<p>Morty laughs again, leaning back against the stool. “It’s good! And I dip it, thanks! It’s better than honey mustard on salad!”</p>
<p>Rick cringes, leaning against the island countertop. He seems a lot different as well, going on longer, rambley tangents like Ricks usually do. This feels... almost <em>normal. </em>"No offense, but the only valid condiment is ketchup and even then that shit belongs on chicken only. Not <em>hot dogs,</em> not <em>pizza,</em> not— maybe turkey as well, because that's basically bootleg chicken— food-wise, not evolution-wise, in that case turkeys are far superior— b-but you know what I mean!"</p>
<p>“Turkey and ketchup? Gross. Besides, ketchup is horrible. Caesar is the good shit.” Morty grins, knowing this’ll take them even further into their debate. His Rick would end it once and for all by picking Morty up and play fight with him. This Rick won’t, and he knows it. A part of him hopes. Rick just rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>"Ugh, don't get me started. That shit deserves to die like the real Caesar did, and— y-you know what, fuck it, I'm getting started! Stay right there...!" Rick leaves quickly, rummaging around a closet for something. He comes back with one of those little lap whiteboards, and for the next fifteen minutes, goes on to scientifically prove that Caesar salad dressing, and all other forms of ranch, are all a bunch of garbage he would eradicate— "— if I had enough time on my hands and a sledge hammer. Real— real fuckin' George Lucas style, y'know? No, you don't, because that's not a reference kids your age would understand."</p>
<p>Morty grins the whole time, trying not to laugh. “Your Rick is showing...”</p>
<p>"Shut up, anyway, if I were to actually go on a time-hopping VHS-smashing massacre, I'd have to choose <em>"We Wish You a Turtles Christmas"</em> over that shitty ass fuckin' Star Wars Hanukkah thing any day, at least it's hilarious to watch the grandpa watch space porn. No, Turtles Christmas needs to be purged from this and all worlds, that shit was the holiday special of nightmares, specifically yours. Oh, man, remember when Beth rented it for you when you were about seven? You were so scared of the animatronics, you slept with your parents until New Year's...! You...” He trails off at the end as he catches a glance at the Morty who was actually sitting in his kitchen, and a physically painful feeling hits his chest. “… you wouldn't remember."</p>
<p>"... S-sorry."</p>
<p>“It’s okay.”</p>
<p>Morty recognizes that look of pain. He lets out a sigh. “O-one time, Rick and I were watching some shitty alien movie... he was screaming at the TV because the characters were being stupid and unrealistic, you know. He got so mad, he kicked the TV! Mom was <em>pissed.</em> He covered his ass and told her TV rots your brain cells and her husband didn’t need to get any stupider... then he bought her a new flatscreen.”</p>
<p>Rick lets out a little pity laugh, serving Morty a well-needed plate of hot, crisp tendies. He sits on the opposite side of the island so they're facing each other.</p>
<p>"Heh, yeah... once, Morty got so upset at some smurf he was playing Overwatch with that he threw the controller and cracked the screen! Luckily, we replaced it before Beth or Jerry noticed."</p>
<p>“Aw man, Overwatch? Rick never let me play that!” Morty huffs. He picks up a tendie and nibbles it. Rick shrugs, looking over to the side.</p>
<p>"If it makes you feel better, he was probably trying to stay off the radar, not— not put his live location out there, what with the uh, <em>other</em> fun you two had. But hey, I'm the one in charge of the Xbox now, Morty, and I say you have the right to fap to Widowmaker's victory poses, if you really fuckin' wanna."</p>
<p>Morty frowns, taking another nibble, slower than before. “Rick… I’m gay.”</p>
<p>Rick looks back over with a mildly surprised face. "Really? Huh, most of 'em that like dick fall in the bi-pan territory, that I am not going to argue whether or not there's a difference between them because words mean whatever we want them to, so don't ask. Honestly, I’m pretty sure Ricks only use pan because they like seeing people’s reactions when they say “yes” to their shitty “do you fuck pots too” jokes. Uh... I think my point was something along the lines of "congratulations" followed by "is Jessica a dude in your dimension?" J-just curious, I’m not transphobic or anything, I’m just—"</p>
<p>“Who’s Jessica?” Morty interrupts. He’s generally very confused. It seems there’s a lot more differences than they previously thought.</p>
<p>Rick blinks, trying to re-rail his thoughts. "... Uh... never mind, actually, it's not important. You, uh... you should eat that chicken while it's hot, because it gets hard and rubbery in the microwave."</p>
<p>Morty nibbles on it more, finishing one and picking up another. His bites are getting bigger. “You said they… what are you…?”</p>
<p>Rick's unibrow goes up so fast that it should probably fly off of his face. He fidgets with a hoodie string.</p>
<p>“I-I… I’m not really sure… nothing, I guess.” There’s more to that, so much more, but Rick is clearly not very interested in talking about it right now. Maybe another time.</p>
<p>“It’s fine if you’re asexual. You’re already so much different from the other Ricks. This is just… more of that. And I’m really different from Mortys too... m-maybe we were meant for each other.”</p>
<p>Rick smiles a little, staring down at the countertop. "A couple of emos on the brink of suicide… no family, no life, fucked in the ass by both the system and different versions of each other... how ill-fated indeed."</p>
<p>Morty looks up at him and taps his fingers on the countertop. “My Rick never told me anything... how he felt, or what he wanted... o-or how in danger we were... you have to tell me things now, okay?”</p>
<p>"I don't have anything left to hide, Morty. Y-you watched the stupid video, you watched when I had panic attacks, and that's my whole life's story. I don't have anyone or anything to hide from, so if you wanna make an Overwatch account and play with eleven other Mortys while jerking off to— I don't know, to McCree's dick outline or whatever— then you can go right the fuck ahead because I'm not one for danger, I'll tell you that right now."</p>
<p>“... You haven’t told me everything yet.” Morty mumbles. He takes his plate to the sink and starts cleaning it.</p>
<p>"Th-the shit I haven't told you is because even thinking about it makes me feel physically sick.” Rick doesn't look up from a very interesting speck on the countertop. “Trust me, I'm not <em>not</em> telling you to protect you or because I don't trust you, Morty, I'm doing it for myself because I hate confronting emotions that I don't understand."</p>
<p>Morty cleans his plate and around the sink, moving on to cleaning the counter tops. He looks stressed. “I’m used to touches... and kisses… a-and being close. I make you uncomfortable, because you think I’m taking advantage of you or something, like he did. But I won’t... a-and I don’t expect you to welcome those things, I-I just... you have to tell me to stop.”</p>
<p>"I-I know." Rick bites his lip, accidentally pulling the split from last night back open. "Ow, fuck— why do I keep doing that, it fucking hurts..." Morty tenses. He can smell the blood. He slowly looks up. His green eyes seem to have a pink tint around the irises. Rick wipes his lip on the back of his sleeve, not really caring what gets blood on it. "You're right, though, I— I gotta work on that though... I guess I'm just... scared... this is— this is the first glimmer of hope I've seen in a long time, a-and I don't want you to be unhappy because of me..."</p>
<p>Morty shakes his head, really focusing on cleaning. He shakes a little, but ignores it. He wants to just go over and straddle him and <em>suck the blood right out of his lip.</em> He doesn’t. He <em>can’t.</em> Rick wouldn’t like it. They’d get in trouble...</p>
<p>“I-I... I-I won’t be...”</p>
<p>Rick finally looks up, hearing the tremble in Morty's voice. "M-Morty...? Are you okay? Oh jeez, you're not gonna cry, are you?"</p>
<p>“I-I’m fine.... p-perfectly... fine... I-I have to— I-I’ll be back…!” Morty hurries to the bathroom and quickly locks the door. He couldn’t do it to Rick, but... the urge for blood was <em>too strong.</em></p>
<p>Rick curses under his breath, following after him. He sits in front of the door. "Fuck, Morty, I-I'm sorry, I don't know which part of that did it, b-but it's okay..."</p>
<p>Morty breathes heavily. He brings his arm up to his mouth, as close as it can go to the shoulder.</p>
<p>"H-hey, come on out, l-let’s talk like you wanted, yeah...? Come here, okay...?"</p>
<p>Morty bites into his bicep, whining against his own flesh. He feels the blood flow in his mouth and he’s eager to drink it up. It doesn’t taste like Rick, but it’s decent enough. Blood drips on the floor. He stays latched on to himself for a few minutes. It’s enough. If won’t stop bleeding, though. Rick keeps trying to talk to him, but then he starts to smell that sickly bubblegum smell Morty described, and he starts to fully panic.</p>
<p>"Fuck— Morty, what's going on in there?! A-are you hurt? Let me in...!" He shouts, rattling the doorknob.</p>
<p>“I-I’m okay...!” Morty opens cabinets and drawers, trying to find something to clean himself up. The pink drips of blood are all over the floor, his arm...</p>
<p>Rick curses loudly, but he can be heard leaving. It's quiet before a portal opens on the other side of the bathroom, practically tripping over Morty as he stumbles through.</p>
<p>"O-oh my god... wh-what the hell happened? Jesus, are you okay?"</p>
<p>Morty tries to hide it, but it’s hard not to see the bright pink mess. It’s on his mouth and there’s a bite mark on his arm. It’s not hard to figure out what happened. He just groans and tries to wash it off. He went deep.</p>
<p>“I-I’m so s-sorry, Rick, I-I’ll clean up I promise...!”</p>
<p>"H-hey, hey, no no no, shh... I-I just need you to breathe, alright? I-I'm not mad or anything, just calm down...." He leaves the portal gun on the counter, and carefully leads Morty to sit on the toilet, giving him the previously bloodstained towel from earlier to stop the bleeding temporarily. He digs around the closet again. "What... wh-what happened...?"</p>
<p>“N-nothing, I’m f-fine...”</p>
<p>Rick kneels beside him, looking up at him with... a look his old Rick couldn't replicate. Because he knows what it feels like. He looks so worried for Morty's safety, so unconditionally loving. It's a pretty good distraction from the scary-looking injection device he's got hooked up to an industrial stapler.</p>
<p>"... Y-you're gonna be okay, Morty.”</p>
<p>Morty doesn’t even look at the device, focusing on that face. “N-no... I-I’m fine... I’m o-okay...” He pushes it away, pushes Rick’s hand away.</p>
<p>"Morty— Morty, it's important— I need you to talk to me, okay...?”</p>
<p>Morty yanks his arm away, not wanting to be touched. He looks ashamed, embarrassed. Beyond guilty. “I-I wanted to bite you, s-so I bit myself...!” He blurts out.</p>
<p>Rick merely looks... confused. Slowly, his eyes grow wide with realization. "Holy shit... are you a vampire?"</p>
<p>“N-no... I-I just... I can smell blood very well, a-and... it feels n-natural... after... living off of... j-just let me take care of m-myself, please...!” Morty hops off the toilet and uncovers his arm. It’s still bleeding a little, jelly-like globs of pink forming and rolling down his arm. It smells sweet, looks sweet. Very unlike blood. Rick stops him again. There's so much love, so much sadness in his eyes.</p>
<p>"M-Morty... you're not alone this time."</p>
<p>Morty freezes. “I... R-Rick....” He looks up and Rick and just... melts. He complies easily after that, letting Rick do whatever he wants.</p>
<p>"Y-yeah, I'm right here... this will only hurt for a second...." Rick gives him a soft smile, bringing the injector up to Morty's shoulder. For a split second, the pain of the thick needle is intense, but it all melts away as the serum injected into his arm molds the skin back together. It doesn't even leave a scar. Morty squeaks, gripping Rick tightly. Even when the pain is gone, he doesn’t let go. He never wants to let go.</p>
<p>“R-Rick....”</p>
<p>Rick shushes him quietly, patting the healed area. "There, see? You're all better now. How do you feel...?" Morty looks at his arm, then Rick. He thinks hard before he just hugs Rick tightly, gripping his hoodie. Rick puts the injector down so that he doesn't drop it before he hugs Morty back. "I-it's okay... you're going to be okay, Morty... you're... you're right here with me, Grandpa's got you..."</p>
<p>Morty lets out a little cry, pressing closer to Rick. He mutters Rick’s name like a prayer, over and over. It’s heartbreaking to sit through. Rick just sits back on his heels, rubbing Morty's back the way that all Mortys who actually have backs like to be rubbed. It has a very calming effect. He understands. Rick may be the only one on the Citadel who understands.</p>
<p>"I'm not gonna leave you... I'm not gonna hurt you... so... thanks for trusting me."</p>
<p>“I-I... I-I do... more than anyone...” Morty looks up at him. His eyes are glossy and gorgeous, bright green with little hearts in them it seems. Pink blood still is on his lips and arm but he doesn’t even seem to notice anymore. He nuzzles against Rick happily. Rick gives him a few pats, then reaches for the towel.</p>
<p>"Alright, hold still so I can clean you up. This stuff is sticky, Jesus..." He grumbles. He’s sure to wipe Morty's face up decently enough, then looks down at the floor situation.</p>
<p>"Sheesh, that's a lot of jelly... I-I should run some tests on this, figure out the best way to clean this up. A-and figure out what's wrong with your body too, see? It's all connected."</p>
<p>Morty is quiet, just enjoying this for a moment. “We... we could go to the planet...”</p>
<p>Rick glances back down at the towel. "U-uh... are you— are sure that's a good idea...? I can only see this ending badly for you."</p>
<p>“I-I... I don’t w-wanna but.... I mean... we... I... i-it’d help you research.” Morty hunches in on himself. He wanted to go back and see... <em>what was left. </em>“Just... don’t let anyone know...”</p>
<p>Rick watches him closely, then wraps the towel around the back of his neck. "Maybe another time. If you don't want to, we have plenty to do here instead. Why don't we go take a peek at this, yeah? Wanna see your blood cells through the microscope?"</p>
<p>“O-okay...”</p>
<p>Morty nods, reaching out and grasping Rick’s wrist. He just wants to touch him right now, be near him. Rick doesn't fight it, letting Morty hold onto him for now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Morty takes Rick somewhere to heal emotionally. It backfires spectacularly.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings for this chapter:</p>
<p>-Mentioned abuse<br/>-Mentioned rape<br/>-Attempted murder</p>
<p>Please do not read if this content makes you feel unsafe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All of the Citadel’s apartments built for Ricks have a room specifically built to serve as their labs, but M-113’s is criminally underdeveloped. The counters are near bare, only a few pieces of pre-assembled equipment sitting out and collecting dust. There are only a few disturbed streaks in the dust, none of them seem very recent. Morty looks around, a little disgusted by the dust. Still, he follows Rick and holds his hand.</p>
<p>“Sorry it's kind of dirty, we just need to dust off the microscope... it's... around here somewhere..." Rick mumbles.</p>
<p>Morty slowly lets him go, walking around the room. He starts cleaning as he looks, using an old shirt lying around to dust. Rick seems to find it quickly, and luckily, he'd remembered to put the case on it the last time he used it.</p>
<p>"M-Morty, just— just do me a favor, I'm gonna lift this up, and you're gonna pull the anti-dust condom off of this thing for me, okay?"</p>
<p>“O-okay, Rick.” Morty snorts, standing in front of Rick. Rick lifts the heavy equipment up, frail arms shaking from its weight. He hasn't done this in a long time. Morty pulls the dusty cover off as fast as he can, shaking dust everywhere. He looks up at Rick for approval, a hopeful smile on his face. Rick drops it back on the table, coughing.</p>
<p>"Fuck, ugh... that... that fuckin' sucks... alright, here, plug— plug this thingy into the wall and— oh, fuck, it's in my eye—! Augh, shit, I— I'll be right back, look— look for the fuckin’ slides..." He stumbles out of the room, coughing as he heads down the hallway.</p>
<p>Morty plugs it in as he leaves. He starts to look through the boxes piled up against the back wall— old clothes, books, collectibles and decorative shit— and one box that's been taped shut. That must be it. It was in far nicer condition on the outside, treated with care as one would expect from a package containing glass. Unless you order from Michael’s craft store, but that’s another story entirely. Inside the box lies... oh.</p>
<p>It's his Morty's old stuff.</p>
<p>Morty’s eyes widen. He sees the yellow clothes inside and knows exactly who’s it is. There are several sets of clothing in there. Well, at least he won't have to wear Rick's for the rest of the day. There are some framed photos of him and his family, some little intergalactic knick-knacks, and... a birthday card. Judging by the stamp on the back though, it was purchased this year. Didn't the video say Rick jumped in 2019? Morty takes it out carefully and opens it.</p>
<p>It's... a lot to take in. It's been written in so many times, crossed out and scribbled, smudged and covered up with Wite-Out. Pen, pencil, sharpie, stickers, blood— if it stained paper, it was in there. The only part that's legible is written lightly in pencil on top of a blob of Wite-Out in the corner; <em>I miss you.</em></p>
<p>Morty frowns, sinking down against the wall. He covers the box and applies the tape again, putting it back where he got it. He feels like he’s intruding here. He wasn’t this Rick’s Morty. He never would be. Rick would never love him like he loved his own Morty.</p>
<p>"H-hey, sorry that took so long, I couldn't find the fucking eyedrops... I-I actually think they’re out of date, but I used them anyway. I brought you a glass of water, since it's... M-Morty?" Speak of the devil and he shall appear... Morty grimaces. He moves forward and crawls out of the corner, looking up at Rick from behind the counter. His big glowing eyes are the only thing than can been seen. Rick approaches like nothing is wrong. "Did you fall? Here, I got you some water."</p>
<p>Morty crawls under the table and over to Rick, sitting at his feet almost like a dog. “Rick…? You... I-I...”</p>
<p>Rick frowns, kneeling down. "Morty...? Are you okay...?"</p>
<p>“… Y-yeah.” Morty doesn’t bring it up, standing up and looking to the side. “Can... can I go watch TV...?”</p>
<p>Rick pauses, glancing at the microscope "Uh... y-yeah... anything you want... just, no more biting. Okay?" Morty nods, going into the next room. In the corner where he was, the box is out of place and the tape is curling over itself. It’s obvious he opened it. Rick takes a deep breath, counting in his head to keep the panic away. After a minute, he goes back out into the living room, holding an old set of the teen-sized clothing.</p>
<p>"H-hey, uh... I-I found some clothes that will fit you, if— if you want, that is, I know you're worried about leaving the house tonight so— s-so why let them sit unused in the back of a closet, huh?" He stops. Morty isn’t on the couch. He’s sitting on the windowsill, the window opened. He’s looking out of it, feeling the sun on his face, swinging his leg over the edge. He only glances over when Rick comes in. Rick's heart stops in his chest.</p>
<p>“They’re not mine.” Morty deadpans.</p>
<p>"... M-Morty... w-we talked about this... c-come on, what— why are you sitting up there?"</p>
<p>Morty leans his cheek against the windowsill. “I’m not gonna jump... I’m just thinking...” He sounds eerily calm.</p>
<p>Rick is still cautious, walking forward slowly. "H-hey, you don't— don't gotta feel weird about that box, okay? H-he was a little shit, and he's dead now... s-so it doesn’t matter."</p>
<p>Morty feels him close and he’s tense. He sighs and shakes his head. “... I... I saw the card... I know you miss him. I-I’m not upset by it... of course you do, he’s your Morty.”</p>
<p>Rick bites his lip— carefully this time— and moves so that he's right next to Morty. He stares down below, at all the traffic, the violence, the drugs... it makes him sick being this high up again.</p>
<p>"I... I have very complicated feelings for him, Morty... I just want you to understand, I-I don't really fully understand it myself yet. Sometimes I feel happy that he's gone. Sometimes I feel sad. Sometimes I feel so angry, I don't have a choice but to hurt myself, because I <em>can't</em> hurt him. He isn't left with what he did. But I am. And... it's complicated when someone you loved does this to you."</p>
<p>Morty blindly reaches over and takes his hand, letting out a sad breath. He’s not focused on the city below, but the sky and stars and clouds. “.... I don’t want to be like him.”</p>
<p>"A-and you're <em>not</em> him…! That shit you found— that's just shit, Morty. H-he's not in his shit, Morty, he was shit with or without the shit...! Wait, this is getting confusing... h-he was a shitty person. It wasn't his clothes, it wasn't his garbage, and it wasn't in this stupid Stockholm bullshit I have to live the rest of my life with. He was shit, Morty. By wearing that shit, you're not gonna become shit because it's just <em>shit!</em> Did any of that make sense?"</p>
<p>Morty turns to look at Rick. There’s no judgement in his eyes, just worry and kindness. It’s been a long time since rick has seen that. “You loved him.”</p>
<p>Rick leans against the wall with a deep sigh, running his fingers through his hair. The cleanliness of it makes it feel like it's not his own. "O-of course I do...! He... he was my grandson. I-I was there his whole life, I loved my grandson like any man would. But in the end... he was still my grandson. A-and..." He rubs his eyes, trying not to cry. "... I-I just wish I could've said goodbye... or k-killed him myself... a-at least get some kind of closure..."</p>
<p>Morty looks up at him, his hand gripping Rick’s loosely. “... I... I heard people sometimes get closure by visiting graves... d-do you want to try that...?”</p>
<p>Rick looks back up at him, at their hands, really thinking. Slowly, he nods. "... I-I... I think that's... s-something we can do... just, don't let anybody see either of us."</p>
<p>“I won’t.”</p>
<p>"... Come down from there, let me give you a real hug, Morty."</p>
<p>Morty stands up on the ledge of the window and steps forward, arms wrapping around Ricks neck and literally falling into his arms. Rick stumbles a little, but catches him, hugging him tightly. He lets the hug last a while, clearly needing the affection himself. When they break the hug, the first thing he does is shut the window.</p>
<p>"Wh-while we're out, remind me to get some— some of that Flex Seal I’m seeing all over the television. I'm tired of you trying to give me a heart attack, I'm vaguely in my 70s, I think, and you might literally kill me."</p>
<p>“I like the window...!” Morty gives a small laugh, taking the time to put on the old Morty’s pants. They were his now. He kept Rick’s shirt. Rick rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>"Yeah, no. Flex Seal. Don't even care if I get in trouble with the landlord, your ass is not gonna touch that sill again."</p>
<p>Morty goes over to the window and does a little wiggle, then presses his butt against the sill. “Too late!” He grins.</p>
<p>"You're <em>totally</em> the first Morty to ever do that. Are we going?” Rick groans, clearly annoyed but in a not-angry sort of way. Morty lets out a cute little giggle and goes over to him, taking his hand.</p>
<p>“Yes!” He answers, in a fairly inappropriately cheerful way, given what they’re about to do. Rick grabs the portal gun from the bathroom, but hesitates while punching in the coordinates. He's... he’s having second thoughts. He tries to ignore them, and pulls his hood on so it hides who he is somewhat decently. Morty gives his hand an encouraging squeeze. “It’s okay, Rick. Come on, we’ll get it over with together.”</p>
<p>Rick closes his eyes, squeezing Morty's hand back as they step though the portal. When he opens his eyes, he finds... well, just a typical sunny day in front of a church. The first thing he does is make sure nobody else is there that they can see, quick to duck around the side of the church to get out of view from the parking lot. He looks at the cemetery head.</p>
<p>"I-I wasn’t— wasn't invited to the funeral... y-you know, on— on account of being assumed in jail at the time. S-so I don't actually know where it is. I guess... split up...? Take the rows two at a time?"</p>
<p>Morty nods, slowly letting him go. He walks to the other side of the cemetery. He shoots Rick a small smile, trying to encourage him, before he starts looking. Rick keeps his head down, skimming but not really reading the names, too lost in thought to really take in the external stimulus of the names on the graves or the sound of wheels on gravel.</p>
<p>It doesn’t take Morty longer than five minutes to find his own grave. It was... odd. Seeing his name on a headstone. He calls out to Rick, but he doesn’t seem to hear. All he does is kick over the shitty little American flags the groundskeeper put by the headstones for Memorial Day and never removed. Morty huffs and starts to move towards him, wondering why Rick isn’t—</p>
<p>“Morty?”</p>
<p>Morty’s blood goes ice cold. He hasn’t heard that voice in well over a year. Slowly, he turns around to see two people standing in the gateway to the cemetery.</p>
<p>His parents.</p>
<p>Beth drops the flowers she was holding, standing there and gaping. She clearly knows what's up, though, and that this isn't her Morty. Her expression suddenly turns sour.</p>
<p>"Where's Rick." It's not a question.</p>
<p>“M-mom...?”</p>
<p>Jerry lets out a little sad laugh. “Beth, it’s Morty...!”</p>
<p>Something in Beth— this universe's Beth— finally snaps, and that something is probably made of steel cable because it's gonna be loud and very painful to those who get hit by it. She storms over, grabbing Morty by the front of his oversized shirt.</p>
<p>"He is not our son, Jerry, h-he's some punk poser from another timeline or whatever! Where is Rick? I know he brought you here—!"</p>
<p>"<em>Another timeline?</em> Jeez, Beth, this isn’t fucking JoJo.” Rick steps out from the tree line, pulling the hood off. “Let him go, he hasn't done anything."</p>
<p>Beth lets Morty go, walking up and punching Rick square in the face. He doesn’t even attempt to stop her.</p>
<p>"How dare you—!"</p>
<p>Jerry grabs Beth by the shoulder and hastily pulls her back. “Beth, honey, please…! Rick, there had better be a good reason why you’re here with a copy of our son—"</p>
<p>“I-I’m not your son, Jerry...!” Morty suddenly snaps, standing between the three to protect Rick. He reaches out to comfort Morty, but Beth slaps his hand away.</p>
<p>"Don't you dare touch him! I will never forgive you for what you did to my son!"</p>
<p>Rick sighs, rubbing his swelling face. The bruise is already forming and his nose has started bleeding. "B-Beth, look, you can kill me if you want, okay, but this— this Morty will fucking eat you, a-and I don't want that. Let's just have a nice, civilized conversation...."</p>
<p>Morty looks back at Rick with another look of betrayal. “I’m not going to eat my mom! I-I’m not <em>that</em> bad...!” Then he smells the blood and his stomach drops, eyes wide. He shakes, standing on his toes to get a better look. It’s clear he’s fighting that urge again. “Oh jeez... A-are you okay, Rick...?”</p>
<p> Beth steps forward again. “Morty, please, come over here and get away from him—"</p>
<p>“S-shut up! I <em>will</em> attack if you don’t just shut up!”</p>
<p>She flinches back, hearing Morty say such a horrible thing to her. Rick pats Morty on the shoulder.</p>
<p>"H-hey, don't— don't do that. Beth, look, I just wanted to come and see Mort—"</p>
<p>"Don't even speak his name."</p>
<p>Rick sighs quietly, looking down. "... This was a mistake... I... I-I'm sorry. Come on, M— uh… kid…”</p>
<p><em>Bad choice of words.</em> Beth yanks herself from her husband’s hold, stepping closer once more. " You think I'm going to let that happen again? Let you— let you hurt another one?! Morty, come here." She demands.</p>
<p>Morty is hesitant. He takes a step, then another, and another until he’s hugging her, gripping her tightly. “M-mom...!” He missed his mother. Beth drops to her knees, hugging this Morty close as if he was her own. The moment doesn't last, though, as she glares daggers at Rick behind his back. He shrinks.</p>
<p>"Jerry, take Morty to the car and bring the shotgun from the trunk. You're not getting out of it this time, Dad. I'm going to make <em>sure</em> there is justice."</p>
<p>Morty tenses, quickly letting her go. He tries to pull away, wanting to go back to Rick now. Jerry reaches for him and Morty growls. “No! Don’t hurt him...!”</p>
<p>Rick sighs deeply. He looks… so tired. "M-Morty, this— this isn't a battle worth fighting. This was a shit decision, and this is just karma. Just go with them. Don't maul anyone, they know how to reach the Citadel and they will lock you in a hole for the rest of your inevitably short life."</p>
<p>Morty’s eyes widen. “N-no...! I-I just got a home, I just found you... Rick...”</p>
<p>Jerry picks up the squirming boy. Against all odds, he seems to be more on Morty’s side. “Beth, I-I don’t know about this, isn’t this criminal kidnapping and murder? Let’s just call the cops like sane people—"</p>
<p>“Jerry.” Beth glares at him, a look that could freeze hell over. “This is <em>clearly</em> self-defense. Now take him to the car and bring me the <em>fucking</em> shotgun.”</p>
<p>Jerry sighs. Can’t say he didn’t try. He turns and heads towards the gates like the omega fuck that he is, taking Morty with him.</p>
<p>“M-Mom, please, don’t! Rick...!” Morty reaches for him, wanting to be saved. Wanting to go home without causing bloodshed. But the further away Jerry takes him, the more inevitable it seems. Rick watches them go, tears in his eyes. He lets them close as Morty is taken away.</p>
<p>"... For what it's worth... I still love you, sweetie." He mutters. Beth frowns darkly.</p>
<p>"You <em>raped</em> my son. Your words mean nothing."</p>
<p>Rick bows his head. He knows the truth would fall on deaf ears, and doesn't even try to fight back against his daughter's rage. This is all he deserves anyway. It was silly to think he could return to the way things were before.</p>
<p>Poor Morty can only cry in Jerry’s hold. He tries to console his interdimensional son, but when he pulls the gun out the trunk, Morty snaps. He bites into the arm restraining him, and Jerry drops him with a scream. Both Rick and Beth's heads spin so fast it hurts. Rick doesn't even try to grab the portal gun. Morty spits— his blood tasted like dirt. Jerry leans against the car, holding his injured arm close, trying to stop the bleeding with his shirt.</p>
<p>“Why?! I’m on your side!” He pathetically begs. Morty kicks the shotgun under the car and runs back over to Rick, stumbling as he goes. His arms wrap around Rick’s torso.</p>
<p>"J-Jesus fucking Christ, Morty—! Wh-why the fuck would you do that?!"</p>
<p>Morty grips at Rick’s hoodie, shaking. “H-he had a gun, R-Rick...! H-he was going to kill you...! I’m sorry I said we should come here! L-let’s just go…!”</p>
<p>Beth doesn't run over to Jerry, despite his obvious sobs. She turns to the two of them. "Y-you're a monster, dad. I will find you one of these days. And I will kill you."</p>
<p>Rick is physically shaking and looks like he's going to throw up. Without another word, he shoots the portal underneath them, so that they fall through and land on the couch. It blips out of existence, and the portal gun clatters to the floor. He covers his face with his hands. "... O-oh god."</p>
<p>“Rick...? A-are you okay...?”</p>
<p>He slides his hands off his face so they hang limply off of the couch. He stares up at the ceiling, a horrified and yet rather hollow look on his face as he lies flat on his back, not even attempting to get up. "O-oh my god, p-please, no..."</p>
<p>“R-Rick...?”</p>
<p>Rick just squeezes his eyes shut, as if he has to re-watch the preceding scene again for it to make sense. "G-god, why— fuck! M-Morty... Morty, do... do me a favor, and just— the gun. Put— put in the coordinates of that planet. The one you said you were from. W-we'll take a... a little trip, just like you wanted... while we have time…"</p>
<p>“W-what’s going to happen, Rick...? W-what’s wrong...?”</p>
<p>Rick rubs his eyes. All it does is smear blood on his face. "They're going to tattle on us. I'm going to get caught with an unregistered Morty. You're going to be sent to the asylum with all the other Mortys too dangerous to be roaming around, probably forced into underground Mortyfights. L-like cockfights, if the ones controlling the fights were the cocks instead. Wh-who knows what'll happen to me, and honestly who cares. Th-the point is, l-let's— lets enjoy it while we can, whatever that thing you wanted to do was, I-I can't remember... figure this shit out as we go along.”</p>
<p>Morty climbs up on the couch next to Rick, a horrified look on his face. “I-I’m so sorry, Rick, I just... t-they were going to kill you a-and take me away... I-I’ll be good, I like it w-with you, please...”</p>
<p>Rick rubs his eyes, trying very hard not to cry. "I-it's not your fault... not... not your fault... just... j-just do the thing, the thing you want— fuck, this is all my fault, I never should've gone back."</p>
<p>Morty frowns, leaning in close to him and tapping their foreheads together. “It’s... it’s gonna be me and you. Forever. I-It’ll be like starting over, except now you have me.”</p>
<p>Rick peeks his eyes open, and all he sees is Morty. He reaches up, shakily holding Morty's head between his hands. It’s impossible. It’s a stupid wish to even entertain.</p>
<p>It’s all he has now.</p>
<p>"R-Rick and Morty... h-hundred years, Rick 'n' Morty... that’s what they say, right…?"</p>
<p>Morty smiles sadly, putting one of his hands over Rick’s. “Rick and Morty, the baddest bitches in town. Come on, get up.”</p>
<p>Rick laughs a little bit. He shifts, trying not to smash Morty's head with his own as he sits up. "Th-thanks... for— for pulling my head out of my ass there... we... w-we can do this...."</p>
<p>“You’re a genius, Rick. Fuck society, you can do anything!” Morty smiles. He sits up with him, picking up the portal gun. He pauses, looking around. “Are we coming back...?”</p>
<p>Rick hesitates. "I... I don't know. I honestly don't know, Morty. I-I hope so."</p>
<p>"We.... W-we could be space wanderers. W-we'd never have to stop for anyone. A-and we'd only have each other. H-how does that sound...?"</p>
<p>He fidgets with the portal gun instead of actually activating it. "I trust you, Morty... I just... don't trust myself. I-I’ve been retired for eight-ish months, I don't know if I got it anymore like any other Rick does."</p>
<p>Morty gets in his line of sight and smiles sweetly at him. "It's okay... You're not like any other Rick. You're you, and I think you're the best Rick there is."</p>
<p>Rick smiles a little bit in return. Damn, Morty's smile was infectious... He opens the portal. "Heh... alright, <em>Best Grandpa Ever</em> mode is now activated. A real— a real Rick and Morty adventure is happening after all."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have beef with the craft store Michael's, don't ask. Also, that is indeed how you spell Wite-Out.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was originally a roleplay with my significant other. Attempts have been made to convey narrative consistency.</p><p>Follow us on Tumblr @rickmortyship, for what little time we have left before Fanexus' release anyway.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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